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A Way Back from Disaster: Saving the World | bold-fencer | 10

 

When Jeanette woke in the morning, he'd already left for the lab.

Oliver spent the next few days collecting samples, calling on volunteers with Dr. Saunders' help, and also taking samples from the population (where people were willing to have a cheek swab or a skin sample taken) in an ever-widening circle. With growing horror, by the end of the week, he came to admit that the data were consistent after all:

datum 1: The carrier virus was extremely profligate, reproducing itself very efficiently in new hosts with the barest exposure.

datum 2: The carrier virus infected all mammals.

datum 3: The carrier virus had spread beyond the reach of his trips to collect samples. Over the course of a day, the virus had spread enough that every sample he collected within the city bounds had traces of the virus.

datum 4: The compound that the virus bore had no effect on cells without an X chromosome.

datum 5: The compound attacked the Y chromosome on male cells, eventually resulting in the dissolution of the DNA strands and cell failure.

datum 6: The one exception were his own cells.

Going over the evidence a twentieth time, Oliver rocked back on his heels, rubbing his eyes with exhaustion. It was true. Every male cell that came from someone else rapidly degenerated and died when exposed to the compound. As he sat there, the virus was spreading the compound across the state, maybe even the country. He couldn't deny the evidence any longer. In all likelihood, Hank had killed them all.

Not only would men and boys start dying, but the human race would die out in a matter of years, unless the surviving women would be able to develop and carry on successful cloning, or some population of men would be able to isolate themselves completely from the spread of the virus.

Oliver went out to the lobby and switched on the TV there. After a little while of mind-numbing week-in-entertainment shows, the local news came on, mentioning an outbreak of colds in the region. Oliver was beyond horrified; what could he do? He was in shock and denial. His cell phone rang; it was Callie, wondering where he was for soccer practice.

In a daze, Oliver went out to his car, got in, and drove to the soccer field. The girls had all finished suiting up by the time he got to the dressing rooms, so he changed quickly and ran out, giving them a little pep talk and sending them out to run drills on autopilot. As he watched the long-legged girls run back and forth across the field, their nubile bodies working up a sweat, their hair tied back in ponytails, he tried to come to grips with what it could mean. The end of the human race. Some of the girls had brought boyfriends with them, who were cheering and whistling at them, but Oliver did notice some of them had started coughing already. Every man alive, dead...

...except for him. His cells weren't affected. Why was that? Why weren't his cells, his DNA strands, affected by the compound in the same way? There had to be something unique about his cells, or about his DNA, that resulted in imperviousness to the compound. He tried to think of which alleles might confer immunity, and how he could test for that. But if he did isolate some trait in his DNA, what then? What could he do with that information? He couldn't transfer his DNA to another person, not in any way that would protect their existing cells, unless those cells were wholly formed with his DNA from the beginning.

He had to find a cure, somehow. But his mind kept returning to the thought that the only way to be sure that a male person would have his DNA would be if that male were his direct offspring. It was too ironic; the idea that they didn't want any more kids, that he was going into the Doctor's office on Monday to talk about a vasectomy, and here he was, possibly the last hope for humanity, in his sperm. He started laughing, almost hysterically.

Katie Lewis came jogging up, a little out of breath. "Is everything OK, coach?" Oliver was very aware that he was noticing the 18-year-old's heaving chest, the beads of sweat on the back of her neck, the swell of her buttocks under her shorts, all as if he had never seen them before.

"No, no, Katie, I'm fine. Go back to your practice." She looked at him quizzically for a moment longer, then ran back onto the field. To reassure her, he called after her: "You're looking good out there!" and then grimaced at what he'd said, uncomfortably aware that he was checking her out and the comment hadn't been at all about her soccer skills. She was doing fine, but his eyes were feasting on her long tanned legs, the brown hair tied back slowly escaping, the smudges of dirt and sweat on her limbs. He sighed and shook his head.

This thing was bigger than him. Who could he tell about it? Jeanette, obviously. The government agency responsible for the compound? His patron, Agatha Bristow? Would it make a difference? Could they come up with a cure any more than he could? He'd have to try, but he'd have to operate on the assumption that there would be no cure, on the worst-case scenario that all men without his DNA would die. What could he do then? How could he avert the death of humanity?

He couldn't just tell people that he needed to produce as many offspring as possible, though that is, basically, what he was contemplating. They'd lock him up. Oliver wasn't even sure that Jeanette would believe him, for that matter. She might think he was coming up with a story as a way of trying to back out of the vasectomy...

They wouldn't believe him at first - and might lock him up in a sanitarium - but then when all the men started to die, they'd look to him for blame, and he wouldn't hold his life worth a dime at that point. No, he realized with horror, not only did he have to work to save humanity, but he had to do it in secrecy as much as possible.

Practice ended, and he watched the girls leave alone or with families and friends, most of the guys looking fairly peaked. As he got into his car, his phone rang again. He answered it without looking and was dismayed to hear Alicia's voice on the other end. "Oliver? Oliver, I have to speak with you. Meet me at the lab in 20 minutes."

Oliver had no idea what to expect, but he automatically drove over to the lab, his heart filled with despair for humanity. Every man on earth, dead. How could a mind grasp that concept? How long did he have? He needed some data from actual victims of Hank's Plague (which is what he'd come to think of it). Hank would probably do, at that. Getting out of his car, he saw Alicia Darkchilde pacing by the front doors. She looked furious.

 

How does he handle "Bad Alicia"?


          He takes her inside

 
 
 

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