“Our government is not perfect. I have taken issue with much of what they have done in recent years. But its people—the people who payed the taxes that sent me to school, who fed and housed you and your family—those people are now depending on us. The government in Nairobi has collapsed. People are dying, not just from the virus, but from starvation and secondary infections.
“Right now, Kenya’s survivors are scattered. That makes them vulnerable to armies large and small. War and famine may be the next enemies we face. To defeat them, we must come together.
“Tomorrow morning, at dawn, I will leave for Nairobi. I will stop at every village and town along the way, gathering survivors. In Nairobi, we will save as many lives as we can. I believe it is the best hope of survival for all of us. I ask you to join me. If you remain here, I will do my best to send help back, but I can’t promise you anything. Together, I believe we have our best chance at survival. And we will save lives.
“Meet me here, at dawn. I urge you. And I thank you.”
Elim watched the crowd break. Many loitered to ask questions of the people who were effectively running the camp. There were no answers, no real plan other than to set out at dawn. He wondered how many would join him.
He instructed the men to travel to Garissa, the nearest city, and bring back trucks. They would stop there first. Garissa had had roughly 140,000 residents before the outbreak—roughly half the population of the refugee camps—but Elim hoped they would find many survivors there.
He returned to the aid agencies building, found Dhamiria, and took her by the hand. “I understand if you want to stay.”
“You know me better than that, Elim. Wherever you go, I’ll go too.”
In Hannah’s room, he inspected the young physician. She was stable, but the virus was advancing. Elim had been treating a secondary bacterial infection, which he was quite worried about. The gunshot wound that had gone untreated for too long was likely to blame. She needed IV antibiotics, but Elim had none to give her. She was asleep now, and he was glad; the rest was good for her.
“Will we take her with us?” Dhamiria asked.
“Yes. It’s her only chance.”
Elim barely slept that night. It seemed like there were a million things to do. He wrote endless notes to the nurses who would assume his duties when he departed (there were still thousands of people too sick to travel). He inventoried the supplies on hand, dividing up what would go and what would stay.
From the window in his small office, he watched the crowd gather at the trucks. They lined up, carrying sacks and backpacks and pushing carts with their belongings. Smoke from the fires rose into the sky, forming black clouds that hung over the camp and the mood of everyone within.
Dhamiria pushed the door open and walked to Elim’s side. “They’ve loaded her up.”
He nodded and rose. “Are you sure?”
She kissed him and squeezed his hand. “Let’s go.”
Outside, Elim surveyed the crowd. It was amazing: over half the people who had gathered yesterday were here. Elim guessed there were four thousand people standing ready to join him.
To the nearest driver, he said, “We’re going to need more trucks.”
Chapter 87
In the conference room at the CDC’s Emergency Operations Center, Millen and the other shift supervisors listened as Phil Stevens stood before the large flat screen and briefed them.
“Two hours ago, the United States government, as well as governments around the world, were contacted by an organization that calls themselves ‘the Citium.’ The heads of watch were briefed an hour ago. We requested, and were granted, permission to play this message the White House received.”
Stevens sat and worked the touchpad on his laptop. A recording began playing over the conference room’s speakers.
“The Citium is a group of scientists and intellectuals dedicated to improving human existence through science. We have watched in horror as the X1-Mandera pandemic has decimated the world. We can stand by no longer. We have developed a cure for the virus—an antiviral that we have tested and used to cure thousands in our trials. We offer that cure to you and your citizens.
“In return, we ask only that steps are taken to ensure a similar global catastrophe never occurs again, and that other threats to humanity are removed. We seek a world with no militaries, no borders, no discrimination, and where every human is treated with decency and fairness. We are committed to this world; in fact, we demand it.
“In return for doses of X1-Mandera antivirals, we require that you take the following actions. Your congress or parliament will pass a law that places all government agencies and functions under the direction of an international oversight board called the Looking Glass Commission. The law will also place the power grid and internet under the commission’s control. You will use the Rook Quantum Sciences application to allow your population to vote directly on the law, referendum, or constitutional amendment—whatever your system of government requires. It will be your job to persuade your population to approve and ratify the law.
“If you enact the Looking Glass laws, our first task will be to distribute the cure.
“Some governments may reject our help. Others will join us in creating the world humanity deserves. If you or your population deny our help, millions will die needlessly. We don’t want that. We hope you join us. We look forward to working with you to create a better world for all of us.”
The recording ended, and Stevens stood. “This group, the Citium, doesn’t explicitly take credit for releasing the virus, but we all know antivirals take longer than a week to develop—and even longer to mass-produce.”
Millen spoke: “How did the White House respond?”
“They asked for a sample of the cure. That request was denied.”
“They assume we might try to reverse engineer it.”
“Correct,” Stevens said. “The White House then insisted they wouldn’t agree to the terms without a demonstration of the cure’s effectiveness. I’m told that demonstration is to occur within the hour.”