“Dr. Ngoy, you’ve spent all this time figuring out where this virus came from,” she said with acid in her voice, “but what is it actually doing? How is it pathogenic? That’s more important right now than where it came from.”
Ngoy scowled at being questioned, at being challenged. He turned away, as if deaf to her question.
Frank interceded. “I’ve had some thoughts on that, ever since I saw this bugger on my laptop’s screen.”
“What do you mean?” Nolan pressed, clearly ready to grasp at anything.
Frank shouldered past Ngoy to reach the computer monitor. He zoomed in and pointed to a lone virion at the edge of the raft of cells. “This virus is already huge. But note the wider spread of the protein spikes extending from its shell.”
He swung to face the group. “From my scans, I noted that the cytoplasm of infected cells was littered with broken-off spikes. Most were bent and twisted in the same shape and manner. Suspiciously so.”
Jameson’s eyed narrowed. “Suspicious, why? What are you getting at?”
Charlotte suddenly knew, her limbs going cold. “Are you thinking those discarded spikes might be acting like prions?”
“Possibly. But I’ll need to do more research.”
“What are prions?” Nolan asked, looking about the group.
Frank explained, “Prions are infectious strings of misshapen protein. They’re not living, per se, but they have the ability to replicate and pass their malformation on to normal proteins. They cause various diseases, mostly neurological.” He glanced significantly toward the medical ward. “The most common is Creutzfeldt-Jakob disease in humans, a neurodegenerative disorder. Similarly, there’s kuru, found in New Guinea, gained from the consumption of brain tissue. And rarer still, fatal insomnia, a deadly condition that doesn’t allow the victim to sleep. But in this case, I’m particularly thinking about bovine spongiform encephalopathy.”
“Mad cow disease?” Charlotte asked.
“Exactly. A prion disease of bovines. In humans, the symptoms present as depression, loss of coordination, headaches, difficulty swallowing.”
Charlotte shared a look with Jameson at this last symptom. She pictured Disanka choking on her stew, the lack of response to the tongue depressor. “Those all sound like early symptoms of this disease.”
“Perhaps,” Frank said, “but keep in mind, that in cattle, the first symptoms are nervousness, aggression, even frenzy.”
“Hence, mad cow disease,” Nolan noted.
Frank nodded. “Two different presentations of the same prion disease in two different species. Stupor in us, aggression in another.”
Charlotte understood. She again heard the howling of the baboons. She pictured the savage attack upon the camp. Even the ravaging floods of army ants.
Jameson pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers. “But it makes no sense. Those degenerative diseases are slow to manifest. It takes months, if not years.”
“True,” Frank admitted. “Disease progression takes so long because prions don’t replicate very fast on their own. But in this case, they don’t have to. If I’m right, the virus here is doing the heavy lifting. The virus replicates quickly, sprouting and seeding those proteinaceous spikes at an incredible rate. We’re talking about a prion disease on hyperdrive.”
No one spoke for several long breaths.
“Is there any treatment for these diseases?” Nolan asked.
Frank answered with the grim truth: “Presently they can’t be cured. We’re talking about a chain of protein, not a living organism that can be killed with an antimicrobial. You can certainly treat the symptoms, slow down the progression, but they’re all ultimately fatal.”
Charlotte refused to accept this. “Still, if you’re right, we’re talking about a viral vector that seeds these particular prions. Surely if we can find a strong enough antiviral, maybe the disease could be stopped.”
“We can only hope. But even if we’re successful, it’s not going to help those already infected. The prions have already been planted.”
Charlotte realized he was right. She looked toward Disanka with a pang of guilt.
I promised her I’d help her child.
“And remember,” Frank added, “we’re talking about a virus that could theoretically infect everything in its path. It could be anywhere and everywhere.”
Despite her best efforts, Charlotte felt herself succumbing to despair. “It’s like this virus is turning the natural world against us. Ramping up wildlife into a savage state, while leaving us dull and defenseless in its path.”
“And that might only be the tip of the iceberg when it comes to this virus,” Frank mumbled.
Nolan faced him. “How so?”
Frank shook his head. “All this hypothesizing only applies to those spikes on the virus’s surface. We’ve not even begun to consider the genetic engine inside. Those two thousand genes. While many remain unknown, what’s known seems to be far more ancient than anything found in life today.”
“But what else could those genes be doing?” Jameson asked.
Frank opened his mouth as if to explain, then closed his lips again, clearly holding something back. Charlotte wasn’t sure she wanted to know.
Frank’s stocky assistant nudged the virologist. “Considering what’s happening, Frank, if you know something, maybe you’d better share it. I think we’re beyond the time for secrets.”
Frank heeded this warning. “I . . . I’m not sure. But back at the university lab, an ant pupa hatched. What crawled out bore weird changes. Wings, a barbed stinger. I thought the changes could be from virus-induced mutations. But like I said, I’m not certain. I don’t know enough about the Dorylus species to be confident of this assessment.”
Upon this revelation, Nolan pulled Ngoy to the side and spoke in an urgent whisper.
Frank’s shoulders slumped. “I was hoping Benjie could offer more help,” he mumbled absently. “Then I would know for sure.”
Shocked at hearing this familiar name, Charlotte drew closer. She lowered her voice. “Benjie? As in Benjamin Frey?”
Frank nodded.
Charlotte blinked, a joy bubbling through her. She pictured the firebombing of the village. “He survived . . . how?”
Frank tried to explain. “We rescued him from a raft in the flooded river, along with—”
His words were cut off by a touch on his elbow by his assistant. Frank didn’t elaborate further. It seemed some secrets were still warranted.
Charlotte eyed the shaven-headed assistant standing next to Frank. She was suddenly sure that there was more going on here than outward appearances suggested.
Luckily, the brief exchange went unnoticed by their captors. Nolan still had his head bent with Ngoy, discussing some matter that seemed to irritate the head clinician.
“Just show them,” Nolan finally snapped as he straightened back around.
“Show us what?” Frank asked.
Nolan headed across the ward with Ngoy, plainly expecting them all to follow. “It’s best you see for yourselves.”
6:22 P.M.
Monk kept to the rear of the group as it exited the Quonset hut.
Where is this bastard taking us?
He searched as surreptitiously as he could. With every outing, he had tried his best to get a lay of the land. He memorized buildings and tried to get a rough head count on the patrols. He had already identified an outbuilding that was an armory. Past its barred gates, crates and stacks of weapons remained under heavy guard. Another cement-block structure was festooned with antennas and a trio of satellite dishes. Probably the communication nest for this outpost.