Acidalia II
By Amanda D

Laura and Sam waited in the isolation lab for the solders to arrive. Laura outside in the control room and Sam was stuck inside…still. The word had just come in that Col. Charles Jordan head of the United States Army Research Institute for Infectious Disease, USAMRID, biological contamination unit was on the way down. We didn’t have to wait long.

His underlings came in to the control room, in full viral protection gear, asking Laura to wait in the hallway, while they checked the security measures that had been put in place. Sam watched them check everything from the air to the swabbing the control panels to check for infectious agents. Once satisfied that she wasn’t going to infect anyone from her confinement, the Col. Strolled in.

He was a tall olive skinned, fit, with military short black hair and dark brown eyes. He had the look about him of someone that used to having his orders obeyed without question. He looked to be the type of person that Sam always had problems with and she silently hoped that they would be able to work together and not against each other. In his left hand he had a large manila folder and a second much smaller one. He walked over to the control console and put on a head set. Before turning his side on however he turned and told one of his men outside the room to bring Dr. Wayne in.

Once they were both settled the Col. said furiously “I can’t believe how irresponsible the two of you have been. Believe you me, when all this is over there will be charges filed.”

Laura felt a small wave of relief wash over her as she herd him say that. Ever since the scope of the infection became clear several hours ago, she had been plagued by a growing guilt over the situation.

The Col. continued, “But for now we need to work together to find a solution. Our first objective is to contain the situation before it gets completely out of control.”

“But Col. the infection is already too wide spread for us to contain.” Laura interrupted.

Jordan glared at Laura out of the corner of his eye and held up the thinner of the two folders he brought with him. “This is an executive order clearing me to use what ever means I deem necessary to stop the spread of your problem.”

“What are your plans?” Sam asked, speaking for the first time since the Col had entered the room.

“We are almost finished preparing the Reynolds medical center to be the Bay area quarantine and Dillon army hospital is already housing a dozen or so infectees, with more on the way. He informed them and then changed the subject back to the problem. “I’ve spent the last hour or so of my ride over here going over all the data you’ve accumulated so far. Have you come to any conclusions yet?”

“Other than the obvious, no, not yet.” Sam said glumly.

The Col. shook his head. “Dr. Mia Blue, senior virologist from the Centers for Disease Control (CDC) and her team should be landing in San Francisco with in the hour. She should be here within two hours of that. The two of you are going to be working directly with her on finding a cure. My people will be in on the research too, but our main priority is containment.”

He stood up to leave. “I expect daily updates and…progress.” He said as if he could order the problem to be solved. He strolled out with the same air of authority as he came in with, leaving Sam and Laura wondering where to go next.

Sam looked through the glass at her former lab assistant and soon to be co-defendant. Laura looked like she had aged ten years in just a couple days. ‘What’s going to happen to her if this goes on for years?” Sam wondered to herself.

“Well have there been any updates from Bill?” Laura asked.

Sam looked down at the computer monitor in front of her. She clicked the email icon and two new messages appeared on the screen. One was from Bill Batson. “Got one right here.” She said as she opened it. To her surprise there was no introduction or real message, there was only a number. Sam’s blood ran cold as she read it, it was a large number.

Laura so the startled look on her former bosses face. “What does it say?” she asked through the head set.

Sam read it again to make sure she hadn’t made a mistake. Taking a deep breath she said “385”.

Laura looked as stunned now as Sam had moments earlier. “Is…is that the new total or the number of new cases?” she asked.

“It doesn’t say…but for my own sanities’ sake, I’m, going to assume that it’s the grand total.” Sam replies.

Laura nodded in agreement. Even if Sam was wrong, it was easier on the conscience to think of it as the total.

Col. Jordon slumped down in the comfortable high back leather chair in his temporary headquarters and tried to rub the tension out by massaging his temples. Yesterday this office had belonged to Sam, but now it was the army’s communications hub, at least until the quarantine centers were fully running. He was uncomfortable with the position that his current assignment had put him in. He had been a soldier his entire adult life as well as a doctor and the two jobs occasionally came into conflict. This was one of those times. Being the highest ranking officer in the area meant that he was going to have to be in charge of everything including security, when what he really wanted was to be in the lab with his team trying to beat this thing.

Then there was the question of how well they could work with the civilians. He hated working with them. They were undisciplined and erratic in his opinion. These two here were even a bigger challenge to him than the usual. He had argued with the president himself against them leading the research team, but he had been rightfully over ruled. “Those two invented the thing” President Fuller had told him, “they have the best handle on what we’re dealing with. To simple arrest them and put them on trial for crime against humanity would be a terrible waste of resources at this point.” Though he hadn’t completely agreed, it was a presidential order and he would do as he was instructed.

His reverie was interrupted by a small but confident knock on his door. “Enter!” He called.

The door open and through it came his second in command Lt. Col. Gary Tyler. “I have the latest update on the quarantine centers and the infection count.” The junior officer reported after the customary salute.

Jordon gave him a brief humorless smile. “Well let me see them.” He ordered. Alexander placed the reports on the desk and stepped back. “No Tyler. Have a seat. I need you to be completely in the loop in case anything happens. For the better part of the next hour the two officers went over the reports. The number of infected was growing at a scary rate and the first non west coast case had popped up in Philadelphia.

When they were finished the Col’s headache had grown to near epic proportions. He got up and walked in the adjacent bathroom and began searching for some remedy. As he searched he heard the phone ringing back in the office and Tyler answer it.

A few minutes later Jordon reentered the large office, having found a bottle of Advil and popped a handful of tablets. He looked over at his second in command “Who was it?”

“Sir, it was Major Brady. He was calling to report that the FBI was done interrogating Carla Ryson.”

“Good. Are they bringing her to Reynolds?” The Col. replied.

“Not yet Sir. The Major has asked permission to question her himself first.”

Jordon considered the request for a moment. While Major Brady was a good man, and an excellent interrogator, he had a habit of leaving marks, and if Dr.Ryson was going to be a public scapegoat she couldn’t be paraded around looking like the victim of a New York City mugging. “Tell him to go ahead, but remind him of the larger picture, and that we don’t want any kind of unnecessary public sympathy being generated.”

“Yes Sir.” Lt. Col. Tyler replied as he picked the phone back up and made the call.

The CDC team landed at Travis Air Force Base at approximately 11:30am local time. With the help of the Air Force crews the cargo was unloaded from the plane and loaded on to various trucks for distribution through out the area in record time. The team split into different group, each with a separate destination and purpose.

Mia and her team of six hoped into the trucks heading south to the lab in Santa Cruz. She was accompanied by Dr’s Jane Grey, Philip Greer, Roger Brooks, Burt Fielding and Francine Carlson. Each was a top researcher in their field and all were anxious to get working on a solution to what they were now being told was called the Acidalia virus by the military.

Grey, a short heavy set brunette with beautiful green eyes, Greer, a short shaved bald black man who wore glasses as thick as the bottom of a coke bottle, and Brooks, a large middle aged man with long thick grey hair were the virology team. They would be the ones along with Dr. Blue working most directly with the researchers at the institute. Fielding and Carlson were experts in genetics they’re job would be breaking down both versions of the virus and discovering the reasons behind the mutation.

The other two teams were headed to the Reynolds and Dillon facilities respectively. They would be there to test the infected and administer any vaccine that may come available.

The time it took for the drive flew by, as the entire team studied all the latest data on the virus. There wasn’t much new except the case total, which seemed to grow in leaps and bounds every couple of hours. There had still been no reports of any females being infected. Mia was sure that was part of the driving force behind the containment plan she had seem. The ol’ boys in Washington wanted to stay boys.

San Quentin prison:

Major Craig Brady, the massive mound of muscle that he was, washed the spattering of blood off of his large calloused hands. He smiled as he worked the end of it out from under his fingernails. He loved his job as head of the army security attachment on this mission. He was very good at extracting information from reluctant people and hoped this mission was going to provide plenty of opportunity for someone of his talent. Best of all he was going to be the defacto commander of the Reynolds facility once it was up and running. Col. Jordon had way too much on his plate to over see all the details on a daily basis and had appointed surrogates to run the individual quarantines that reported directly to him.

The self satisfied smile remained on his face as he dried off. He had been sure that Dr. Ryson had known more about what was going on than she had told the FBI and he had been right. Borrowing a few rooms and bringing her here had been a stroke of genius on his part. He had been granted all the privacy one could ask for and took full advantage of it. His mood grew even brighter as he remembered the look of pure terror on her face as she was dragged through the general population wing in just her bra and panties. He had told her that if she didn’t cooperate the he would leave her to the prisoner’s tender mercies. Once they had arrived in his interrogation room and begun to question her, it became apparent that she was willing to say anything he wanted her to. Despite this he worked her over for a bit, just for fun. After a bit he got bored with her and threw the prewritten confession at her, which she eagerly signed. An added plus was none of the marks would be able to be seen if she wore everyday clothing, he had been very careful.

############

The truck arrived at the lab complex in little over two and a half hours. Mia had her team begin the task of unloading the equipment while she went to meet the two latter day Frankenstein’s that had created this mess. The scientist inside warred with her inner doctor over the morality of creating a virus like the one her team was tasked with neutralizing. The one thing her two sides could agree on was that their hearts had at least been in the right place. From reading the back grounds on both of the creators, she was aware of infection that had cost Dr. Grayson the use of his legs. ‘Or I suppose it would be her legs now’ she thought as she made her way past the security check point in front of the elevator bank.

She used the ride down to the labs area to steal herself against the rising tide of anger she felt towards the authors of this growing epidemic. She quickly chastised herself; the president had specifically ordered that the use of epidemic was specifically forbidden. ‘Friggen politicians. Think they can hide the situation by controlling what we call it.’ She thought to herself disgustedly as the elevator doors opened. Stepping out and looking to her left she saw the huge red and white sign over the entrance to the isolation lab and walked towards it. Pushing through the outer door. Mia’s eyes opened wide with surprise as she entered. She had read all the facts about and knew Sam was the first victim of the virus, she just hadn’t believed the change would be so complete. She looked over at Laura’s slumped over form. Lightly touching her shoulder Mia said “Excuse me are you Dr. Wayne?”

Sam turned the intercom on from inside the isolation lab “Please don’t wake her. She hasn’t had much sleep lately” she pleaded.

“I imagine not.” She said looking down at the sleeping blonde. Looking back up she saw Sam holding up a head set. Mia looked at the control board. Spotting one on the console, she put it on saying “I’m Dr. Mia Blue. You must be Dr. Grayson.”

“Gulity.” Sam stopped and thought over what she had just said for a moment. “Umm…perhaps that was a poor choice of words.”

“Yes…perhaps it was.” Mia said dryly. “I’ve been playing catch up for the last nine hours, why don’t you give me a first hand perspective of what we’re dealing with.”

Sam let out a loud sigh and began the tale. She explained about the original experiment on Emma, the rat. She continued with how Laura had discovered the loose air hose and the physical change Sam had gone through. Mia could feel their elation turn to sorrow as Sam told her how the two of them first thought that the virus had reverted to its original form and then the shattering of hope as the realization that it hadn’t washed over. The now isolated woman’s guilt over the situation was plain for all to see as she told of the ever growing list of infected and the toll it was taking on her lab partner.

Just as Sam was finishing her tail, Laura returned from the land of slumber. Her confusion was obvious as she looked over at Mia wondering where this beautiful brunette had come from. Introductions were quickly made and Laura was brought up to speed on what they had been discussing.
“There will be a full staff briefing in one hour in the large conference room. Dr. Grayson, I’m going to have some video conferencing equipment for you set up brought down and left in the airlock so you can be there too.”

Exactly one hour later the meeting began. Laura and Sam were introduced to the members of the CDC team. Also in attendance were four USAMRID doctors, Ryan, Wilson, Harrison and Proel. Laura, because she was in the room, presented the briefing, with Sam adding comments where appropriate. After she was finished speaking, Mia opened the meeting to questions.

Several points worth following up on were made during the open session. Dr. Ryan made an especially good point when he mentioned that he had seen two unique genetic markers in the viruses make up. He theorized that an easy to use test could be developed to identify markers. Having brought blowups of the virus with the unique areas circled in black marker, the rest of those in attendance were able to see exactly what he was talking about.

Everyone agreed that it was an avenue worth investigating. Mia assigned Sam, Laura, Ryan and Grey to work together on developing the test. The rest were given other assignments according to what best fit their individual talents and specialties.

Before dismissing the meeting, Dr Blue addressed the assemblage. “Doctors, there are many lives at stake here. We need answers and we need them quickly. The militaries isolation plan will only work if we can stop this thing before it spreads beyond this small area. This will be the most important work of your life and we must succeed. On last thing, there will be daily update’s here every morning at 10am. Anyone have anything else?” No one said anything. “Okay, let’s get to work then.”

************

Elijah Wolf stood in front of the mirror in side his San Francisco apartment staring at the reflection in amazement. Three days ago he had fallen sick. Sicker than he had ever been in his life. The pain had been so bad at one point; he had begged God to die. He hated hospitals and figured that if you were going to die, might as well do it at home. But he hadn’t died and this morning for the first time since taking ill, he felt well enough to get out of bed. On the way to the can he had passed by the mirror and let out a scream as he saw his new body. He pinched himself to make sure this wasn’t another pain induced hallucination.

For as long as he could remember he had wanted to be female. When he was little, every night before he fell asleep, he would beg god to wake up a girl and now it seemed that those prayers had been answered. In his life there had been two constants, his desire to be a girl and his love of God. The psychological effect on the once him now her was akin to being touched by god himself. She fell to her knees and immediately began to pray. She thanked God for his generosity and pleaded for a sign of what she must do in return.

With that accomplished she stood up and began to really look herself over. She smiled as she ran her small delicate hands through her curly waist length sandy blonde hair. She giggled aloud at the sensual arousal that came over her as she fingered her nipple. Her new flat belly and lack of bulge below filled her with glee. Her legs, her small delicate feet…it was all truly a gift from the All Mighty.

***********

Col. Jordon’s tour of the Dillon quarantine had gone smoothly. It had been up and running for a few days and everything seemed to be running smoothly. The mood of the isolated was what he had expected. For the most part they were confused and upset by what had happened. The doctor in charge, Dr. Gabriel Haller, had taken it upon himself to explain the reasons for the quarantine and almost all had seen the logic in being kept away from the general public. He of course had left out the part about this being a man made virus.

The Col. had been glad to see that cooperation between the inmates and their overseers and respect brought on by that had made for a relatively pleasant atmosphere. He had been very concerned that there would be major behavioral issues and was greatly relieved to see that there were not. With Reynolds ready and the first batch of infectees being brought there tomorrow, he could only hope that Major Brady and his staff would be able to duplicate what he had seen here.

************

Jack Charles sat listening to Dr. Greg Kirkland’s voice but wasn’t really hearing what was being said. Though he looked fairly placid on the outside, inside his mind was moving at a hundred miles an hour, trying make some kind of sense out of what had happened.

Twelve hours ago his son was born. He had been feeling a bit achy when Sara‘s water had broken. Once they arrived at City Hospital he checked her is as the doctors scooted her away to the delivery room. As soon as the paper work was processed he ran down the hallway to be with her. After he got a nurse to point him in the right direction, he spotted Sara’s doctor standing in the hallway speaking to a nurse. “Dr. Franklin!” he called out.

The portly coffee skinned balding gynecologist turned in his direction. His face blossomed into a large toothy smile when he recognized Jack. “Ah my boy. The big day is finally here… eh?” When Jamal Franklin smiled you couldn’t help but return it.

“Sure his.” Jack replied grinning from ear to ear. “Which room is Sara in? Where do I have to go to get suited up so I can be with her?”

“Slow down my boy.” Dr. Franklin said jovially. She’s in room two and if you follow Donna here, she’ll take you down to the wash up room and get you a set of scrubs.”

On the way down the hall Donna gave him the small list of do’s and don’ts for the delivery room. Several times she asked in different ways if he was feeling well today. Each time he reassured her that he felt fine even though the aches had moved into a steady soreness. There was no way he was going to miss the birth of his son, besides he was going to have a surgical mask on so that would protect the baby.

The delivery was a long one, taking almost seven hours until James finally decided to make an appearance. After a quick clean up the swaddled baby boy was presented to the proud new parents. Jack was so over come with joy he pulled down his mask to give his boy a small kiss on the forehead. He held the baby closely as the doctors finished with delivering the after birth.

Sara was exhausted after the long ordeal and fell fast asleep shortly after arriving at her room. The babies first feeding came up while she slept, so the happy father got to give his boy’s first feeding. By the time James was finished eating Jack was feeling really bad. The soreness had once again progressed to almost a constant stinging pain all over.

When he returned the baby to the nursery area he was suddenly wracked by a loud hacking cough. The Nurse quickly took the baby from him and put him back in the nursery. Upon her return she pulled off her rubber glove and felt Jacks head. With a worried look on her face she said “You’re very warm. How long have you been feeling ill today?”

He looked at her guiltily. “All day…pretty much.” He admitted.

She gave him a stern look and headed over to the nurses station. She quickly picked up the phone, dialed a number and spoke into, while watching him intently the entire time. She hung the phone up and walked back over to him. “Sir, I need you to go down to the phlebotomy lab right away.”

“Phlebotomy lab? For what?”

“Sir, please! I need you to go there right now. If you won’t go on your own, I’ll have to call security and have them bring you there.”

She was starting to scare him a bit. “Look, I’m not going anywhere unless you tell me why first. Security or no security.”

Chastised, she looked down at her feet. “There has been a rather nasty bug going around and the symptoms look very similar to yours,” she explained. “The only way to tell for sure if you have it is a blood test. That’s why you need to go to phlebotomy right away.”

He numbly shook his head to acknowledge that he understood. Then he got direction to the lab and all but ran there.

Three hours later the results came in and he was escorted to the quarantine area. Some hours later Dr. Kirkland came to see him. On an intercom between the outside world and the airtight room he sat in, Jack listen to the doctor explain how his failure to tell anyone about feeling ill had led to his son and three other children being infected.

After the doctor left Jack found a small corner to sit in and cried. Two hours later another doctor came and informed him his son was dead. The next morning the attendants found Jacks body hanging by his shoelaces off the water pipe that ran across the ceiling.

Reynolds Medical Center two miles North West of San Quentin prison:

Major Brady sat in front of the monitor inside his office and watched as the first of his charges were brought into the facility under armed guard. They all looked so young, scared and feminine. It was hard to believe they had been male less than a week earlier. Now however, they were his to do with what he pleased as long as his superiors didn’t find out that is. That thought brought a smile to his face. ‘Yes, this is going to be a great assignment.’

His orders were simple, keep the infected from infecting others by keeping them isolated within the facility. And what a facility it was now. In only a few short days the entire place had been sealed to level 4 biohazard standards. There were airlocks between every level and each cell. The place was equipped to handle five hundred inmates on six levels and the army corps of engineers was looking into the possibility of digging more levels under the place. He was confident those extra levels would be needed and sooner than later. Something just told him t
Hat the situation was going to get much worse and that was fine by him.

************

She looked around at all the solders in their viral gear as she was forced into the huge building with no windows. She was terrified. Last week her name had been Thomas and his life had been good. Tears welled up in her eyes as she thought of her wife, two daughters, hell even the family dog that had been left behind. Thomas had loved them with all his heart and worked hard to give them the best life she could. Then last Sunday night he had felt a terrible weakness over take him. By Monday morning he could hardly move. Yvonne, his wife called an ambulance and he had been taken to County Memorial hospital.

After several hours of tests, the doctors had no more clue what was wrong with him than they had when he first came in. The terror etched on Yvonne’s face had been enough to drive him to tears. She had confided in him that she was sure that this was would be the last time she would ever see him. He had promised her that he would pull through in a few days and would be home shortly there after. Oh how she had cried and he, in his weakened state had done what he could to comfort her. Eventually the doctor came in and admitted defeat. After all the test and retest the only thing he knew for certain is that Thomas’ cells were dividing at an incredible rate. The cause of which was completely unknown.

It had been decided that he was going to stay the night for more testing, when a group of solders had burst into the cubical that he was in and literally dragged him away. They took him down to the hospitals basement and placed him into a sealed room with about twenty others. Some were awake, some were nearly catatonic, but all were clearly sick. What ever it was that was wrong with them clearly affected each individual differently. As the days went by most changed a few however died. While the corpse count was only a small fraction of the total, the uncertainty over whether the next one to die would be you or the person next to you was an additional stress that none of them had needed to endure. To top it off, no one even took even a minute to try to explain why this was happening to them.

He watched helplessly as his body transformed, becoming more feminine as each hour passed. His dark hair had grown long, his already blue eyes had deepened a shade and he had lost about four inches of height. He had loved being a man, never even considered being female and now he was. It was almost more than his poor mind could bear. As it turned out insanity might have been the better route.

This first group of new arrivals, the first of many that were soon to be housed here, was ushered down a long grey cinderblock walled corridor. At the end were two women seated on metal folding chairs behind rectangular wooden table. Both women, unlike the men who were dressed in full biohazard gear, wore simple surgical masks covering their mouths and noses, but that is where the similarities ended.

The one on the right side was an average height black woman, with long curly hair pulled back into a loose pony tail. She wore green army fatigues that bore the rank insignia of a SGT. Major. She stood up as the group approached and stepped in front of the table. There was a yellow stripe on the floor where the hallways intersected; the head of the line was stopped there.

“I am SGT. Major Loren Hutchinson. I am in charge of security for this facility. My job here is two fold. My first responsibility is to see to your safety. This facility is going to fill up very soon with women just like all of you. When that happens, I am going to expect all of you to help me protect you by helping the new comers learn the rules. The rules are there for your protection and they are expected to be obeyed at all times. That brings me to the second part of my job, enforcing the rules of this facility. The rules are posted in every single containment area and corridor in the building.” She stopped and looked each member of the frightened group in the eye. “Any infraction of the rules will be dealt with severely. As I said before this facility is expected to be at capacity very soon and that means we will have no time to be reviewing reasons for breaking the rules. Any questions?”

No one out of the twenty newly transformed women said a word. They were all too frightened. Loren saw this in them and breathed a silent sigh of relief. “If we can keep them frightened and confused, we just may have a chance to pull this off.” she thought to herself. Then aloud “Good then.” Pointing to the other woman she said “This is Dr. Stanley from the CDC. Doctor?”

Dr Paula Stanley stood up. She was a small fat white woman with long black greasy looking locks and a facial hair issue. She cleared her throat and said “Good afternoon ladies. AS the SGT. Major said I am Dr. Stanley and my job here is to see to any medical requirements you may have. Once you are all settled in you assigned quarantine room I will be visiting each one of you and conducting physicals. At that time I will be gathering information on any allergies or special needs you may have. Any questions?” She looked out into the group, expecting no questions and was surprised to see a hand up. She took gesture as a personal affront and said in a voice dripping in sarcasm “Yes?”

From where she stood Thomas could the contempt on the doctors’ face as her raised hand was acknowledged. Swallowing hard and hoping to sound more confident than she felt, Thomas said “I would like to know what has happened to us.”

With a loud sigh, Dr. Stanley replied “You have all been infected with a highly communicable virus called Acidalia. For those of you who don’t know Acidalia was the mythical spring Aphrodite bathed in. Legend has it that any man that bathed in that water was transformed into a woman, thus the virus’ name.”

Thomas started to speak again but SGT. Major Hutchinson cut in before she could. “Okay, we have a schedule to keep people. It’s time to move out!” she ordered. The group complied and was marched off down the hall.

At the end of the corridor was another table, this one however was much larger than the previous one had been. On it sat tightly wound bundles of drab green cloth. Behind it stood four more members of the army, all female. The STG. Major stopped the procession just as the head of the line reached it. “Ladies,” she said “on this table is the uniforms that all of you will be wearing for the duration of your stay here. As I call out your names you will step in front of one of the women behind it for some basic measurements. After you are issued your uniform, you will step over to the side strip down and put it on. You will then….”

“Excuse me SGT. But you want us to strip here? In the hallway?” Thomas interrupted.

Hutchinson glared as she moved towards Thomas. “First off it’s SGT. Major. Secondly where do you get off interrupting me? I am not your tour guide. I am here to tell you what to do. Your job is to do what I tell you.” Lauren screamed in Thomas’ face.

Thomas swallowed hard and returned her stare. She was sure that the only way to survive this place was to not let the military personal see that you were intimidated. Hutchinson however didn’t take kindly to her stare being returned and pulled a small police night stick out from her waist belt. With out so much as a warning Loren took the solid oak club and whacked Thomas in the side of the head with it.

While most would have gone down like they had been shot, Thomas some how managed to stay on her feet. This seemed to infuriate Hutchinson even more as she hit Thomas again. This time it was a blow to the stomach, which caused Thomas to double over. A second blow to the head put Thomas down for the count.

Putting the club back into her belt the SGT. Major continues as if nothing had happened. “Thirdly, yes you are to strip right here in the hallway, so we can make sure that you have no contraband. Any more question?” No one else dared say a word. “Good. Now as I say your name step forward.”

An unknown amount of time later Thomas swam back to consciousness. Her eyes fluttered open briefly, but the light sent a bolt of searing pain through her skull, making her slam them shut again. For several minutes she lay still waiting for the pain in her head to subside. As it began to abate, Thomas became aware of the sound of voices near her. Chancing another blast of agony, she opened one eye ever so slightly. This produce only a slightly diminished experience and she let out a small unwanted squeal.

Richard, who had renamed himself Mona in the hospital after her transformation into a tall raven haired beauty completed, came over and said “Shhh. You took quiet a blow the head. Try not to move too much. You may have a concussion.”

“Am…am I in the infirmary?” Thomas asked. Her head swam at the effort it took to speak.

“No. We’re in some kind of sealed room.” Mona’s deep throaty voice said through the darkness. ‘If we ever get out of here, she going to have one hell of a career doing voice over’s for 900 numbers.’ Thomas thought darkly between throbs of pain. ‘First however, we need to get out of here.’

Thomas forced her eyes open again, somehow resisting the pain. A wave of vertigo swept over her as she rolled her eyes from side to side, trying to get an idea as to what kind of room it was. Refusing to succumb she found a single spot on the ceiling to focus on and stared at it until the dizziness passed.

Taking a deep breath she once again tried to look at her surroundings. This time the room only spun a bit. ‘Well that’s a bit of an improvement, I suppose’ she thought to herself. To Mona she said “Can you help me sit up?”

“I don’t know if that’s such a good idea.” Mona advised.

“I appreciate your concern, but I still would like to sit up.”

Mona waved to someone out of Thomas’ field of vision and moments later another set of small hands, belonging to a short blonde were helping her sit up. Her head spun again, almost causing her to deposit her lunch onto the floor. Once again she found a spot and stared until the feeling passed. She looked up and thanked Mona and then other girl for their help, then hung her head again fighting back the nausea.

Finally she was able to move her head carefully and got to take a good look around. The first detail she noticed was that the door was round instead of rectangular. ‘Looks like an air lock.’ She thought dully as the room flipped over again. Turning her head very slowly this time she took notice of the rather large window that dominated the wall opposite the door. “Is it just the three of us?” she asked.

“Yep, just you, me and Renee over there. So far anyhow.” Mona replied.

“Well judging from the size of the room, I’d say they’re planning on us having a lot of company eventually.” Thomas replied.

Looking down once again, Thomas finally realized the except for her boxers and the blanket that was wrapped around her shoulders, she was naked. Blushing profusely and unconsciously covering her breasts with her hands she asked “Did they leave me any clothes?”

Renee walked over with a bundle and handed it to her. “Th…thank you.” Tomas stuttered as she gratefully accepted the clothing. With a bit of help from the other two she managed to slip on the ill fitting uniform. Pulling at the waist band to keep the way to large pants from falling to the floor she said sarcastically “Well I guess this will teach me to keep my mouth shut.” The others gave her joke a quick smile. “How long have we been in here?”

Looking at the clock Renee replied “About four hours.”

“Has anyone come by the window since?”

“No.” Mona replied stifling a chill.

**********

Lauren Hutchinson stood at attention as the Major came out of his office to get her. After a quick salute he indicated for her to enter. He sat down behind his desk and without offering her a seat said “Report. How did the first induction go?”

“Well sir, it went reasonably well until on of the detainees questioned one of our procedures.”

“Yes, the incident at the uniform station? I saw it on the monitor. You did a fine job of handling it.”

“Thank you sir.” Lauren replied feeling a bit of disgust at the look of approval in her commanding officers (C.O) eyes. “I handled it the way you ordered us too sir.”

“Yes, I know. What was the offender’s name?”

“Logan, Sir. Thomas Logan.”

“She hasn’t taken a more feminine name like the others?”

“Not to my knowledge, Sir.”

“Hmmm. I think we’ll need to keep a close eye on Ms. Logan from here on. She could be trouble.”

“Yes sir. We’ll keep a close eye on her, Sir.”

“Very good. Anything else to report?”

“No Sir.”

“Okay. Tomorrow we have another group of…” he searched his desk for a moment, eventually finding the paper he was looking for. “Yes, we have another sixty five arriving tomorrow at 010:30hrs.”

“Yes sir, 010:30. We’ll be ready sir.”

“Good. Dismissed.”

Lauren saluted and left the room. Despite only a short time under his command, she was already beginning to have serious doubts about this man.

**********

10am Wed May 31
Acidalia release + 16days

Mia was already waiting in the conference room as the team members began to file in at just before ten. Behind her and off to the side a bit, stood a white erasable marker board with the number 421 written on it in black. At the stroke of ten Mia stood up and closed the door. She turned back to the assemblage and the crowd quieted down immediately. Sam’s monitor flickered on and she immediately spotted the board. “Mia? Is that the latest count?”

She looked over at the monitor, slightly annoyed at the interruption and said “Yes Sam, every morning that board will be updated with the latest count of known cases. Our jobs will be done when that number starts going down.”

That was the last interruption Mia allowed. She called each group one at a time to give their daily updates. Most of the groups had little or nothing new to report as one day’s was to little time to expect any kind of major break throws’. Sam’s team was the only one with anything positive to report.

“We have made some real progress on a quick detection method. The genetic markers Dr. Ryan found react well with several known proteins. We just need to see which one it reacts most consistently with and we should be good to go.” Laura reported. That brought a small bit of cheer to rest of the room

The last team update was just finishing up when Lt. Col. Tyler burst into the conference room and handed Dr. Blue a sheet of paper. Mia quickly scanned the sheet and gasped at what it said. Looking over at the Lt. Col. she asked “Are you sure about this?”

“Yes ma’am. The report was verified as soon as it was received.”

Mia’s mind rebelled against the information. “All of them?”

“Yes ma’am” was Tyler’s answer again. His polite attitude in the face of what he had just presented her made Mia want to explode. Realizing that loosing her temper would be counter productive at this time however allowed her to wrestle it down.

“Damn!” she said as her anger subsided. “Well thank you Tyler.” Taking that as his cue that it was alright to leave, he turned and headed out the door.

Mia turned back to her team. She cleared her throat as rescanned the information on the page to make sure it really said what she had read the first time. They looked at her expectantly. “I…I don’t really know how to say it…but here goes. According to Dr. William Batson over at City Hospital, yesterday morning the father of a new born baby was found to be infected by the Acidalia virus after he had been in the delivery room witnessing the birth of his son. The child was then tested for the virus and was found to be positive. The doctors then tested the other four infants in the nursery and found the other three boys to be positive also. The lone girl was found to be uninfected at this time.”

She took a minute to steal herself for what was still to come. “The infected infants were then quarantined and placed under constant observation.” A small sniffle escaped before she could stifle it. “T… Two…two of the four have died. The others aren’t expected to make it through the night.”

They all sat there too stunned to say anything. Laura’s mouth hung open like a trap door. Sam tried to think of something to say, but nothing would come out. The silence in the room seen to stretch on and on until broken by Dr. Greer. “I…I know this is going to sound cold, but are they going to be sending the bodies here for us to look over and a blood sample from the girl?” The women in the group looked at him in disgust. Seeing that this could turn ugly very quickly he added “I know it’s not what we would chose to do, but we need to find out why the babies died so we can hopefully prevent it from happening to others.”

Though the thought sickened her, Laura couldn’t disagree with the logic of his argument. He was right. They need whatever information the bodies might give them. Though there was now way she was going to have anything to do with the autopsy. Analyzing the samples would be hard enough.

“Dr. Ryan is right. As much as it disgusts us we must find out what specifically it was that killed the boys. Also there is one last note on here from Director Batson. In it he says that the entire staff over there seems to agree that the biggest problem was the amount of time it took to get a positive result. He pleads for a quicker detection method.” Mia informed the stoically. “So I guess that mean we all know what we need to get going on.” Looking first at the members in the room and then up at the monitor that displayed Sam’s image she continued “Sam, we’re counting on you and your team to get this done.”

Sam nodded her head and absently said “Yes.” After a moment of silence she added “Well then if your all set with the meeting, I need my team down here so we can get to work.”

And work they did. For the next three days not a single member of Sam’s team was seen anywhere outside the labs. The only time any one of them took off was during the daily meeting and that was more as case of Sam turning on the video feed in the isolation room and feeding the audio through the intercom, while everyone kept working. Finally after testing and retesting every know agent that reacted with the genetic markers until they were sure of the most accurate.

The following morning the meeting was held in the lab adjacent to where Sam was trapped. The entire staff, everyone from the primary researchers to the newest lab workers we required to attend. The feed for Sam was rerouted so that she could be there to help answer any questions. Dr. Ryan demonstrated the reliability, by using eight different blood samples, six of which were known to be infected.

From each individual sample he used a pipette to draw a small amount of blood and then he dripped the blood onto a microscope slide. Once that was accomplished he took an eyedropper filled with an amber colored liquid. After a few seconds all the infected traces turned a light blue color while the two uninfected samples remained unchanged.

When the test results all proved to be correct, he then went on to explain what exactly was in the test solution. “The best part of this test is that not only is the accuracy better than 90% it is simple to make the compound. We took the enzyme phosphilipase and suspended it in simple saline. The Phosphilipase reacts with genetic marker 3112.004, which we found to be present in both forms of the virus, turning the infected blood an easily detectable light blue color.”

After the demonstration was complete the packed lab erupted into a round of applauds. Morale had been steadily declining around the facility because of lack of progress on any front, making this an event to be enjoyed. Sam on her video feed panned the room watching her compatriot’s reactions. Eventually she spotted Laura standing alone in one corner. The look on her face echoed Sam’s own revulsion to the celebration. There was still way too much work to be done and the team’s reaction came off as slightly obscene to her. She wanted to scream at them, but somehow managed to bite her tongue.

********

She sat in the back of the room furiously scribbling into her note book. AS the celebration around her began to die down she finished writing and quickly stuffed the note pad into her lab coat. She couldn’t believe her luck. For the last six months she had been working at the lab, as a lab technician while simultaneously being employed as a reporter by channel 4 news in San Francisco. The news chief had come to her months ago with the idea of doing an undercover exposé of Grayson labs and now all the time she had spent on the story had just paid off.

As the room began to empty at the conclusion of the demonstration, she filed out with the rest of her group. She chatted amiably with her coworkers as she made her way back towards her work station. AS fate would have it today she would be working alone in the computer room analyzing the results of a sample comparison that she had started the day before. This would give her private uninterrupted access to the internet and email.

For the next several hours she worked on a summary report for the television station and uploading her notes onto the labs server so she could send the entire package out as a single bulk email. She ran the sample comparison several times to cover her time at the terminal. Finally everything was ready to be sent. She mentally began to compose her Pulitzer Prize acceptance speech as she waited for the server to conform the data upload. Several minutes later the upload completed and she picked up the phone next to her work station.

She waited impatiently for her real boss to pick up on the other end. Finally on the fifth ring it was. “News room,” was the greeting she received.

“Bob? It’s Jill. Look I don’t have a lot of time. I just uploaded the story of the decade to you. It’s on the stations email server as we speak. I want full credit on this one and I need you to get me out of here fright away,” she blathered.

“Whoa…slow down. What story?” Bob asked a bit confused.

There’s a bug that’s been going around the San Francisco area called Acidalia It was created and accidentally released buy someone here. Look, I have to get off the line. All the info is on the server. Remember I get full credit.” She reminded him as she hung up the phone.

*******

At the same time:

Col. Jordon was on the phone with Major Brady when Lt. Bridget Larson barged in without so much as even a knock on the door. Annoyed with the interruption he cupped the mouth piece on the phone, preparing to chew her out, when she shoved a piece of paper into his hand. “Sir, we have just traced a call from one of the extensions in the computer lab to channel 4 in San Francisco.”

“I have to go.” Jordon said into the phone and slammed it down on the receiver. Looking back up at the Lt., he said “Is security on the way down there?”

“Yes Sir. The culprit should be in custody in the next few minutes.”

“Good. I want whoever it is to be brought here as soon as they’re secured.”

“Yes Sir!” Larson said as she saluted and turned to leave.

******

Jill Davis put the receiver back on the hook and gathered the test results. She hurried out the computer labs door and walked right into the security team. Realizing she had been discovered she turned and tried to run, but a huge paw of a hand grabbed the back of her lab coats color. She was turned and pushed roughly into the nearest wall. She felt something being slipped over her wrists as her captor sarcastically asked “Going somewhere?” Before she could answer, a sharp pain shot through her wrists as the tywrap was tightened to the point of cutting off the blood supply to her hands.

The mountain sized security officer then spun her around and grabbed her roughly by the bicep. “Come on,” he said as he pushed her down the hallway “the Col. wants to see you.”

Not long afterwards she found herself in the former office of Sam Grayson facing a very upset Col. Jordon. Without preamble he said “I want to know what it was that you sent the television station.”

Trying to sound innocent she replied “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I haven’t sent anything anywhere. I’ve been in the computer lab running a test sample comparison program all day.”

Jordon hollered “Don’t lie to me! You’re in enough trouble as it is; don’t compound it by fuckin with me. We know you sent classified information to the press and under the containment orders I have from the president himself, I could have you shot right here for treason. Understand?”

Jill’s mouth went dry as Death Valley. She tried to speak but couldn’t get anything to come out. After several seconds she croaked “I…I want to speak to a lawyer.”

“Ms. Davis, this facility is under marshal law. I don’t have to let you see anyone!”

Her face dropped even more.

A small, wry, satisfied smile briefly crossed the Col’s face before the stern look returned. “Now are you going to tell me what I want to know?” Jill nodded her head and told him everything, as he knew she would.

*******

Laura walked into the isolation room and plunked herself down at the control board. She looked exhausted and dejected as knocked on the glass and picked up a head set. Sam seeing her walked over to the window and put her on as well. As she prepared to speak, Sam looked at her former assistant with tremendous concern. However before Sam could say a word Laura said “I just spoke with Mia. Jill Davis has been arrested.”

“For what?”

Letting out a loud sigh Laura replied “Apparently she contacted a television station and sent them everything she could on Acidalia.”

“Oh God!” Sam blurted. “Where is she now?”

“They took her to Col. Jordon’s office about twenty five minutes ago. Sam I’m really worried about her. You don’t think they would hurt her do you?”

“Laura, I…I just don’t know. I suppose it depends on how cooperative she is with them. But this is the military that we’re talking about and this is a crises situation…” Sam stopped mid sentence as she noticed Laura crying.

“Oh God Sam, wh…what have we done? How…how could something that was supposed to be so good cause so much harm? Wha…What the fuck have we done?” She wailed.

“Sam put her hand on the ten inch thick glass the separated her from her friend and despaired for not being able to comfort her. “I…I’m sorry you got dragged into this. If there was some way…”

“But there isn’t is there?” Laura screamed. “We fucked this one up good! And the only thing we can do now is try to slam Pandora’s Box shut again before the demons do too much damage! God help us. And what about poor Carla? What happened to her? Do you know? Have you heard anything from her since the FBI picked her up?”

“No. I did call Bill Batson, but he only knew that they took her and all his inquiries as to where went unanswered. Laura…”

“I know Sam. I know.”

****************

Bob Parker, head of the news department at KLTR in San Francisco, couldn’t believe what he was seeing. For the last hour and a half he had been going through the information that Jill had sent him. She had told him it was the story of the decade, but she had been wrong. It was the story of the century. For the last several days there had been a smattering of reports from various sources that there was some kind of new bug that had been making men sick. Jill’s report was going to blow the lid off of the whole thing.

‘A virus that turns men into women…unbelievable.” He thought to himself for what seemed the hundredth time. It just seemed so impossible. Yet all the evidence one could need was right there before him. From notes on the virus’ physical structure to the methods used to develop it. Enough material for day’s worth of headlines. ‘The ratings are gonna go through the roof!’ he thought greedily. Never once did he even consider the social ramifications of what he was planning to do.

He had already spoken to the stations owner Mr. Smithers. Who, in turn, had called the network. Who had called Bob, demanding access to everything he had on the story. Bob however hadn’t become head of the news department by accident, told the head of the network news that the story would be given to over only after his station broke it. After much haggling and wrangling an agreement was finally reached. The story was going to be his for the 5pm local news then it would be on the national feed at six.

Col. Jordon sat at his desk and rubbed his weary eyes. On his desk was his newly installed phone line that went directly to the President’s office. It had been there for less than twenty four hours and he had hoped to never need to use it. Fait however had other ideas. His orders for what to do about the press were clear, if not exactly rational. That and he wasn’t about to send a platoon of solders to a take over a civilian television station without alerting the president first. Letting out a deep sigh, he lifted the receiver and moments later were talking to President Fuller.

“Fuller.” The call was answered.

“Sir, this is Col. Jordon. We have a situation I need to run by you before we act sir.”

With an obvious air of irritation the President said “Go ahead Col. I’m listening.”

For the next ten minutes Fuller listened to Jordon tell him what had happened. His anger grew in direct proportion to his fear of what would happen if the truth got out. Finally he had heard enough. “Col. This can not get out. Do whatever it takes.”

“Sir?”

“Is that a problem Col.?”

“Well Sir, perhaps a personal call to the stations owner…an appeal to his humanity, might be more effective?”

The line went silent as Fuller considered Jordon’s suggestion. “Of course all other avenue’s will be explored, but I still want you send in a small platoon just in case. If for no other reason than to make sure that they don’t get on the air before we do.”

“Sir?”

This needs to be controlled. If the story must get out, we need to be the ones that send it. We need to have control over what is said. Also I’m going to get on the horn with Ted Baxter over at the Federal Communications Commission (FCC) and have the stations broadcast license temporarily revoked.”

Jordon Replied “Yes Sir. What ever it takes. They won’t get on the air before we do.”

“Good!” Fuller said as he slammed down the phone. After taking a moment to collect himself, President Fuller picked the phone back up. Hitting another extension he said “I think we’re going to need Dr. Ryson sooner than we had anticipated.”

********

3:37pm KLTR studios:

Bob Parkers phone was ringing off the hook. The network news people were really starting to drive him crazy with all their questions about the story. He was on the phone loosing patients with one when his secretary burst into his office. “Bob! Mr. Smithers is on line four. He needs to talk to you right away.”

Looking up Bob stuck up his index finger and turned back to the call he was on. “Look I got my station owner calling me. I have to go.” He said as he switched connections. “Mr. Smithers, what can I do for you sir?”

“I just got a call FCC head Baxter telling me you stations license has been revoked.”

“Our license?” Bob asked uncomprehendingly.

“Yes. It sounds to me like the feds got wind of our pending story and aren’t the least bit happy about it. How soon can you get on the air to break it?”

Bob glanced at the clock. “I’d say we can be on the air in about fifteen minute’s sir.”

“Get on it then before they can get a court order to shut the transmitter down!” Smithers said slamming down the phone.

Bob looked at the phone in his hand for a moment trying to comprehend what was happening. He had never stopped to consider that there might be people in the government that wouldn’t want this story to get out. Now however the full weight of the situation was clear. He picked the phone up again and hit the studio extension.

“Studio.”

“This is Parker. We need to get the Acidalia story out pronto. So get who ever we have for an anchor behind the desk and call me as soon as you ready!”

“Al…alright sir. We’ll get back to you in about ten minutes.”

“Good.” Bob replied hanging up.

Almost before the phone hit the receiver it rang again. “Parker.”

“Bob, you need to come to the lobby right now!” the receptionist said in a voice edged with panic.

“Karen, I’m really busy……”

“Bob, there a solders all around the building! You need to come down here…NOW!” she all but screamed.

Bob dropped the phone and hurried to the nearest window. He looked down and his blood turned cold. Every window showed the same view, solders. ”Shit” he muttered as ran back to his office. He grabbed the phone and called down to the news room. Before whomever it was that answered Bob hollered “We need to get that story on the air right fucken now! The fucken army has the building surrounded! I want a camera crew on the roof recording everything! You got me?”

“Y…Yes sir…Sir did you say the army…?”

“Yes!” Bob yelled and slammed down the phone.

**********

The phone rang for what seemed like the thousandth time in the last ten minutes. With a voice so filled with aggravation that it almost bordered on rage the man growled “This is Smithers, who is this!”

“Sir, please hold for the president.”

Normally unflappable Alex Smithers gulped and thought with a small laugh ‘Good thing it wasn’t him on the line to start with.’

“Fuller here. That you Smithers?”

“Mr. Presi…”

“Let’s skip the pleasantries, shall we? It’s come to my attention that you’re television station has stumbled upon something that I would personally prefer never got out. But that’s not reality anymore. So I’m calling you to that you delay the story until we can set up a press conference ourselves. So what’s it going to take?”

Smithers was dumb founded momentarily. He had no idea what to say.

“Are you still there?” Fuller asked.

“Yes Mr. President.”

“Well what’s it going to take?” Fuller asked again impatiently.

“Sir I can’t keep this from the people. It’s already been sent to the networks. They’re going to lead off with it at six.”

“We have already been in touch with the network’s owners. They have agreed to a 5:30pm press conference, so I can speak to the nation before the story goes public.”

“Ok. So why call me? The FCC, alred…”

“FCC?”

“Yes sir the FCC chairman called me twenty minutes ago and told me that KLTR’s license to operate had been suspended.”

“He did what? For Christ’s sake! That was going to be the last option not the first. Jesus! Could this situation get anymore screwed up?”

“Mr. President?”

“Look don’t worry about the license, I’ll take care of that. But to return to the subject, we need you to cooperate. Your station is an independent so the network can’t make you agree. Only you have the power to delay the story. In exchange for your cooperation I’m personally willing to give you exclusive time with the orchestrator of this disaster Dr. Carla Ryson.”

“Carla Ryson? The Carla Ryson? The former head of the genetics lab at California University in San Jose?”

“Yes.” Fuller replied a tad impatiently.

Smithers considered the offer for a moment. Then he said “Okay. We’ll hold the story until you make your announcement.”

“Good. My press secretary will be in touch tomorrow to arrange the interview.”

***************

KLTR studios

Bob Parker stood in the control booth waiting for the final details to be seen to, when Julie, one of the technicians, handed him the telephone. “Parker.”

“Parker, this is Mr. Smithers. Do not put the story on the air!”

“I’m sorry sir, can you repeat that? It’s very noisy in here. We’re just about to go live.”

“Parker!!! Do…”

The red light on the camera came on and the theme music came up. Wanda Maximov, normally the weekend anchor girl, took a deep breath, put on her best smile and waited for her cue. This was going to be her big break and she was determined not to blow it. She read over the script once again and looked up just as the director pointed at her.

**********

As soon as the afternoon soap opera went black in mid sentence, Col. Jordon made the call. Moments later the troops moved in. They rushed the doors and made there way, with deliberate speed to the news studio.

******

“What was that sir?” Parker asked again.

“Shut the broadcast off now!” Smithers screamed into the phone. “Shut it down!”

Parker looked at the phone confused for a moment. “Al…alright sir.” He stammered. He reached over to the kill button on the control board just as the assault force broke into the studio. They aimed their guns at the civilians.

“Everyone down! Now!” one of the solders ordered. “Shut those cameras off!”

Confusion reigned. There were people shouting everywhere. Wanda looked up from her script and let out a small yip. The solder assigned to covering her misunderstood her actions and let off around from his M16, catching her in the face. While the shooter remained hidden by the camera angle, everyone in the KLTR broadcast area was treated to the site of her head exploding like an over ripe melon just before the picture went black.

“Hold you fire!” the platoon commander shouted, a moment to late.

Bob looked out from the control room in horror after stopping the feed. From the phone dangling loosely from his hand, Mr. Smithers’ voice could be faintly heard. Bob dropped the phone and turned away from the grisly scene to wretch.

Down below in the studio the platoon commander walked over the solder that had fired and took his weapon from him. Another one took a small tarp covering a spare camera and put it over Wanda’s body. The entire production crew stood silently, afraid to so much as breathe.

Bob picked the phone back up and put it too his ear. “Mr.…Smithers? Ar…are you still there sir?” he numbly whispered into it. “W…Wanda’s dead sir. The army shot her.”

“They what?”

“Sh…shot her…sir…she’s dead.” Bob repeated trying to hold down whatever was left in his stomach.

Col. Jordon watched in horror as the scene unfolded on the television. He felt a sick kind of relief as the picture went black. This was a fuck up of major proportions. He was going to have the ass of whomever it was that had fired. The only thing it had going for it was that the entire platoon had somehow managed to stayed off camera. Only the people actually in the studio knew what had really happened and they would be detained until they understood that the Army had never been there. Deniability was the only thing that mattered now.

Grabbing the field radio he bellowed into it for the platoon leader to report. Moments later, before the report had even been completed, the white house line rang. He threw the radio across the room in disgust. Taking a moment to compose himself, Jordon for the second time today picked up the ringing phone and gave his report to the President. To say Fuller was not pleased was a vast understatement and he had every right not to be. Everyone knew that there were much darker days still on the horizon and the military was going to be asked to do things that wouldn’t sit well with many people. So to have things go this badly already was completely unacceptable. Heads were going to have to roll, internally at least. The President had concurred that denial of any responsibility was the best way to handle the situation.

Confirmed cases: 465

Actual cases: 781

End part II