jefflong.yearzero-第49节

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ther；　some　have　moved　from　place　to　place。　That　suggests　migration。　Opportunistic。　Or　driven　by　fear。　Some　stay　in　place。　All　are　located　in　cities。　That　probably　means　the　survivors　are　subsisting　on　whatever　they　can　loot　from　the　ruins。　We　can　only　guess。　They　must　be　like　Robinson　Crusoe；　most　of　them；　alone　or　in　pairs　or　tiny　groups；　slowly　going　primitive。〃
　The　Santiago　event　had　five　human…shaped　heat　signatures。　The　survivors　were　finding　each　other。　In　faraway　lands；　they　were　banding　together　in　tribes。　There　was　life　after　the　plague。　Now　if　only　the　secret　of　their　survival　could　be　unraveled　while　there　was　still　a　civilized　world　left。
　〃We　must　not　get　excited；〃　cautioned　the　Pakistani。　〃Dr。　Cavendish　is　correct。　What　are　we　looking　at　here？　Which　kind　of　survivors　are　these　people？〃　He　held　up　three　fingers。　〃Are　they　Category　Three？　Were　they　just　lucky；　hiding　in　caves　or　submarines　while　the　plague　passed　overhead？　Did　the　virus　simply　miss　them？　In　which　case；　they　are　of　no　use　to　us。　The　virus　will　find　them。　Once　they　are　exposed；　they；　too；　will　die。〃
　He　lowered　one　finger。　〃Or　are　they　Category　Two；　impervious　to　the　virus？　Are　their　bodies　somehow　inherently　resistant？　Recall　the　prostitute　study　in　Tanzania。　Year　after　year　of　unprotected　sex；　sometimes　with　dozens　of　infected　men　in　a　single　night；　and　yet　a　group　of　sixty　women　never　developed　AIDS。　Scientists　shadowed　them　for　well　over　a　decade。　They　came　up　with　every　kind　of　theory。　But　no　one　ever　learned　the　secret　of　their　resistance。　In　which　case；　these　people　may　be　of　no　use　at　all　in　our　duel　with　Corfu。〃
　He　held　up　a　single　finger。　〃Or　did　the　virus　actually　enter　these　people？　Were　they　exposed；　and　did　they　develop　antibodies？　Are　they　Category　One？　Have　their　immune　systems　begun　to　co…evolve　with　the　virus？　In　which　case；〃　he　wagged　his　head；　〃maybe　they　can　save　us。　Maybe　not。〃
　〃There's　only　one　way　to　find　out；〃　someone　said。
　〃Go　find　them？〃　a　voice　scoffed。　Miranda　faced　around。　It　was　the　head　of　the　Immortality　lab。　She　was　still　getting　used　to　the　division　title；　though　it　fit　perfectly。　Most　viruses　destroyed　their　host　cells　once　they　were　finished　using　it　as　a　virus　factory。　Corfu　was　different。　It　instructed　host　cells　to　keep　dividing　without　ever　dying；　hence　〃immortality。〃　One　more　mystery；　one　more　lab。　〃They're　on　the　far　side　of　the　planet；〃　the　lab　chief　went　on。　〃We　might　as　well　be　looking　at　pictures　sent　back　from　Mars。　We　can't　get　across　our　own　country；　much　less　around　the　world。〃
　〃But　any　one　of　these　survivors　could　be　our　answer；〃　Miranda　retorted。　〃They　could　be　our　future。〃
　〃In　case　you've　forgotten；　the　U。S。　Navy　got　swallowed　looking　for　survivors　like　these。〃　The　scientists　turned　to　Cavendish　at　the　far　end　of　the　table；　a　frail　stem　with　burning　eyes。　〃Our　armadas　have　disappeared。　Our　military　assets　have　dwindled。　Our　wings　are　gone。〃
　Cavendish　lifted　a　hand　at　the　satellite　image　on　screen。　〃Even　our　eyes　are　failing。　We're　getting　information　from　satellites　that　are　falling　to　earth。　Do　you　understand；　Miranda？　We　can　no　longer　project　ourselves　into　the　world。　We've　lost　the　capability。　We　don't　own　the　night。　We　don't　own　the　day。　It　takes　a　major　armed　expedition　just　to　reach　into　Albuquerque　for　a　few　hours。　Calcutta！〃　he　snorted。　The　luminous　green　figure　on　screen　fed　another　stick　into　his　little　fire。　〃All　this　proves　is　that　there's　other　life　in　the　universe；　no　more；　no　less。〃
　Miranda　felt　the　others　looking　at　her。　Once　more；　she　was　the　sole　voice　of　dissent；　or　optimism；　or　whatever　she　was。　For　an　instant；　she　resented　their　cowardice。　But　she　understood　it；　too。　They　had　families；　many　of　them。　They　were　mortal；　and　Cavendish　was　ruthless。　Their　job　was　science；　not　martyrdom。　〃So　we　give　up；　is　that　it？〃　she　snapped。
　〃We　work　with　what　we　have；〃　Cavendish　said。　〃And　when　the　time　es；　we　retreat　to　the　WIPP　sanctuary。　Just　as　your　father　planned。　This　is　a　distraction。　It　would　give　people　false　hope。〃
　When；Miranda　fumed；not　if。　Retreat。　To　the　sanctuary。　Into　her　father's　underworld。　She　glanced　around；　trying　to　measure　their　discouragement　and　fear。　These　days　they　believed　in　asylum　more　than　they　believed　in　the　cure。。。and　it　wasn't　even　built。　The　subterranean　sanctuary　was　still　under　construction。　Originally　designed　to　be　a　graveyard　for　nuclear　waste；　the　Waste　Isolation　Pilot　Plant…WIPP…was　being　converted　into　a　vast　hideaway　for　the　entire　populace　of　Los　Alamos。　Twelve　stories　of　chambers　and　floors　were　being　carved　from　a　salt　dome　two　thousand　feet　beneath　the　desert　bordering　Texas。　It　would　be　equipped　with　lab　facilities。　Research　would　continue　while　they　sheltered　beneath　the　virus　world。　Someday；　perhaps　decades　from　now；　they　were　supposed　to　emerge　with　their　cure。
　But　to　Miranda　and　a　small　contingent　of　others；　the　WIPP　sanctuary　was　a　terrible　mistake。　There　was　no　way　its　labs　could　match　what　they　already　had　at　Los　Alamos。　The　quarters　would　be　pinched　and　sunless；　an　eternal　night。　Also；　it　would　be　vulnerable　to　even　a　single　strand　of　the　virus。　In　such　close　quarters；　the　plague　could　devour　them　in　a　single　bite。　Anyway；　it　was　wrong　to　be　talking　about　retreat。　〃We　have　a　mission；〃　she　protested。
　〃We　have　to　keep　our　hopes　realistic；〃　Cavendish　said。　〃Some　things　are　possible；　Miranda。　Some　things　are　not。〃
　Just　then　Maples's　phone　beeped。　He　took　the　call；　then　looked　around　at　them。　〃That　was　the　latest　count。　We're　up　to　thirty…nine　survivor　sightings。〃
　〃Worldwide？〃　It　was　the　blonde　woman　from　Johannesburg。　〃My　god；　is　that　all？　Thirty…nine　people。。。where　there　were　once　billions？〃
　The　woman's　country　had　been　killed　off　long　ago。　Miranda　understood　that　about　her。　Defeatism　came　naturally　to　her；　though　that　didn't　fully　explain　her　tone　of　ridicule。　She；　and　probably　most　of　the　others　in　the　room；　were　cueing　off　of　Cavendish；　for　now　displaying　their　allegiance。　Then　Miranda　saw　the　woman　exchange　an　admiring　glance；　and　it　was　not　with　Cavendish；　but　with　his　silent　clone；　stationed　behind　the　wheelchair。　So；　thought　Miranda；　the　rumors　were　true。　The　clone　had　bedded　her；　too。But　who　was　he？
　〃There　will　be　more　than　thirty…nine；〃　Miranda　doggedly　pronounced。
　〃A　few　hundred？〃　the　woman　sniffed。
　〃One　in　a　million；　or　two　million；　or　ten　million；〃　said　Miranda。　〃It's　better　than　nothing。〃
　〃Oh；　but　you　see　you're　only　talking　about　life。〃　The　woman　pointed　at　the　thermal　caveman　squatting　among　the　ruins　of　Calcutta。　〃If　that　is　our　future；　then　civilization　is　finished。〃
　〃No；〃　said　Miranda。　〃Not　as　long　as　Los　Alamos　is　still　alive。〃　Her　defiance　was　beginning　to　sound　like　cheerleading　to　her；　and　she　was　desperately　making　it　up　as　she　went　along。　But　someone　had　to　say　something。　〃We　are　a　city　on　a　hill；〃　she　declared。　〃A　city　of　light。〃
　Where　had　that　e　from；　city　of　light？They　were　all　looking　at　her。　She　wanted　to　believe　their　silence　was　contemplative；　but　knew　they　were　embarrassed　for　her。　Miranda's　cheeks　were　hot。　〃If　we　can't　go　to　find　the　survivors；〃　she　finished；　〃then　maybe　they　will　e　to　us。　Someday。〃
　〃A　good　swimmer；　is　he？〃　joked　Cavendish。Touché。　The　oceans　were　once　again　vast　barriers。
　〃There　will　be　survivors　in　America；　too；〃　Miranda　stated。　She　could　feel　herself　swaying　in　the　breeze；　far；　far　out　on　a　limb　of　her　own　making。　〃Once　the　virus　has　passed　through；　they'll　appear。〃
　〃Like　moths；　would　that　be？〃　said　Cavendish。　〃To　the　light？〃
　〃I　won't　quit；〃　Miranda　said。
　It　was　the　wrong　thing　to　say。　They　thought　she　was　accusing　them。　She　was；　but　not　to　drive　them　away。　To　inspire　them。With　insults？　She　sighed。　She　was　no　good　at　this。　Their　eyes　glazed。　When　she　looked；　Cavendish　was　beaming　at　her。
　
　21
　Resurrection
　
　AUGUST　11
　It　had　always　been　deathly　still　on　her　visits　before。　But　tonight；　five　stories　deep；　the　Orphanage　sounded　like　the　full　moon　rising；　every　wild　throat　up　and　screaming。　As　she　stormed　along　the　hallway；　Miranda　could　feel　the　clones'　frenzy　vibrating　through　the　steel　walls。　Her　anger　rose。
　They　howled　like　banshees。　Some　hurled　themselves　against　the　stainless　steel　doors。　Others　hid　in　corners　or　under　their　beds。　A　wild…eyed　face　hammered　against　the　narrow　Plexiglas。　Another　window　was　flecked　with　blood。
　Two　guards　waited　at　the　far　end　by　a　locked　door。　The　plastic　slider　read　01…01N。　Clone　One。　Version　One。　Neandertal。
　〃What　happened？〃　she　demanded。
　〃Nathan　Lee　went　in；〃　the　big　weightlifter　volunteered。　〃He　sat　down。　The　kid　blew　up。　Then　the　rest　of　them　went　off。〃
　Miranda　peered　through　the　three…inch　window。　The　view　was　blurry　and　brown。　Her　cell　was　a　nightmare　of　shit　walls　and　voodoo　handprints。　The　child　was　caked　with　her　own　feces。　But　tonight　there　was　blood　on　the　girl's　hands。　Blood　on　the　walls。　To　her　relief　it　was　Nathan　Lee's　blood；　not　the　child's。　He　sat　at　her　feet。　She　had　all　but　lost　her　voice　screaming。　It　sounded　like　rust　being　scraped　from　the　walls。
　〃What　has　he　done　to　her？〃
　〃Nothing。　He　went　in。　He　sat　down。　That's　all。〃
　That　was　everything。　The　girl　had　been　stripped　of　her　room　with　the　aspen　outside　the　window　and　a　rainbow