Invasion

"Maybe more of the black discs?" Jesse suggested. "It must be."

"My God!" Pitt exclaimed. "If it is, then it's now involving the whole world."

"It will be unstoppable," Cassy said. She shook her head.

"Something the matter, folks?" Costa, the owner, asked. It was Jesse's turn at the register. Jesse'd originally lined up behind several other customers.

"Nope," Pitt said quickly. "It was a great breakfast."

Jesse paid the bill, and the group walked outside.

"Did you see his smile?" Jonathan questioned. "Did you see how fake it was? He's one of the infected. I'll bet five bucks."

"You'll have to bet with someone else," Pitt said. "We already knew he was one of them."

After a short break that Sheila and Nancy had used to go into the ladies' room and wash their faces, the trio returned to Dr. Marchand's office. Sheila was still exasperated so Nancy spoke.

"We understand that what we are saying is largely anecdotal and that our report is weak in actual data,'' Nancy said. "But the fact is that we are three professionals with impeccable credentials who are here because we are concerned. This event is truly happening."

"We certainly are not questioning your motives," Dr. Marchand said. "Just your conclusions. Since we had already dispatched an epidemiological investigative officer to the scene we are understandably dubious. We have his report here." Dr. Marchand raised a single-page memorandum. "It was his feeling that you people were experiencing an outbreak of a mild form of influenza. He described extensive consultation with the CEO of your hospital, Dr. Halprin."

"His visit occurred before we realized what we were dealing with," Sheila said. "Besides, Dr. Halprin had already been a victim of the illness. We tried to make that very clear to your EIS officer."

"Your report is very sketchy," Dr. Eggans said to Sheila, slapping it down onto the edge of Dr. Marchand's desk after he'd read it from cover to cover. "There's too much supposition and very little substance. However ... "

Sheila had to restrain herself from getting up and angrily walking out. She couldn't believe how these passive intellectual midgets had risen to their current positions within the CDC bureaucracy.

"However," Dr. Eggans repeated, running a hand pensively through his full beard, "it's still compelling enough that I'd like to go and investigate on site."

Sheila turned to Nancy. She wasn't sure she'd heard correctly. Nancy flashed a thumbs up sign.

"Have you circulated this report to any other government agencies?" Dr. Marchand asked. He picked it up from his desk and idly thumbed through it.

"No!" Sheila said emphatically. "We all thought the CDC was the best place to start."

"It hasn't been sent to the State Department or the Surgeon General?"

"No one," Nancy affirmed.

"Did you try to determine the amino acid sequence of the protein?" Dr. Delbanco asked.

"Not yet," Nancy said. "But that will be easy to do."

"Have you determined if the virus is able to be isolated from the patients after they have recovered?" Dr. Delbanco asked.

"What about the nature of the reaction between the protein and DNA?" the willowy Dr. Sanchez asked.

Nancy smiled and held up her hands. She was pleased with the sudden interest. "Slow down," she said. "I can only handle one question at a time."

The queries came fast and furious. Nancy did her best to answer them, and Eugene helped when he could. Sheila initially was as pleased as Nancy, but after ten minutes had passed and the questions were becoming more and more hypothetical, she began to sense that something was wrong.

Sheila took a deep breath. Maybe she was just too tired. Maybe these questions were reasonable from such research-oriented professionals. The problem was that she expected action, not intellectualization. At that point they were busily questioning Nancy how she even came up with the idea of using the protein as a DNA probe.

Sheila let her eyes wander around the room. The walls were decorated with the usual profusion of professional diplomas, licenses, and academic awards. There were pictures of Dr. Marchand with the President and other politicians. Suddenly Sheila's eyes stopped at a door that was open about a foot. Beyond the door she saw the face of Dr. Clyde Horn. She recognized him instantly partially due to his shiny bald pate.

As Sheila's eyes locked onto Dr. Horn's his face twisted into a great smile. Sheila blinked, and when she opened her eyes, Dr. Horn was gone. Sheila closed her eyes again. Was she hallucinating from exhaustion and tension? She wasn't sure, but the image of Dr. Horn's face brought back the memory of him leaving her office with Dr. Halprin. As clearly as if it had been an hour previously, she could hear Dr. Halprin saying: "I've even got something I want you to take back to Atlanta for me. Something I think that will interest the CDC."