Are You Afraid of Ebola? You Should Be...

Why? Many of you have read the first few chapters of my story "Virestorm" about a nefarious plot to trigger an outbreak of Avian flu. If that seems frightening the possibilities with Ebola are truly staggering.

Let's start with a few statistics.  As of 9/30 7400 people contracted the disease and 3439 have died. We have now had our first confirmed case on US soil and Spain has had their first. The disease has a 50% mortality and is transmitted in blood, urine, saliva, sweat,  and feces. The dormant period is up to 3 weeks and you are contagious when you have initially mild symptoms of fever, sore throat and cough.

OK, big deal, the CDC says they will have no trouble containing the outbreak in Texas monitoring the 50 exposed people. Texas doesn't scare me, what scares me is what Texas tells me could happen.

Give me a moment to expand. I was talking to a biomedical expert 2 weeks ago and she confirmed the virus can live on soiled clothing for at least a few days. I can think of lots of ways trouble could happen. When I was talking to a friend about it on Saturday he thought I was describing a new Clancy novel.

So, let's imagine there is an evil person or group who wants to cause terror and disruption. How might they do it and could the plot already be in action? Maybe our person in Texas was just a test to see if the virus could make it into the country and to see how well we responded. If that's the case the hospital failed the initial test as Mr. Duncan was sent home contagious. During the next few days he was in contact with many people.  But, the scary aspect of this is how easily he made it here and once ill was able to circulate among the population.

What would happen if someone was able to gain access to tissue and bring it here? I don't think the idea is too farfetched. I was just reading that in the poorer areas of Africa people are tossing infected bodies into the local rivers for disposal. How hard would it be for a Jihadi to grab one of these bodies and take a chunk of diseased tissue and put it on dry ice or liquid nitrogen and manage to bring it in to our country?

Once here he could walk through a crowded subway rubbing infected tissue onto unsuspecting hands. I'm sure someone would end up rubbing an eye or nose or mouth and perhaps this person would start their 21 day incubation period. What happens when the unsuspecting person becomes contagious with typical flu symptoms a few weeks later and is transmitting the virus to others on public transportation? Imagine a few people doing this in a few major cities. If Jihadists are willing to blow themselves up I believe they would be willing to die of a tragic disease to achieve their aims.

How disrupted would our economy be when hundreds if not thousands of people became either infected or placed in quarantine? We can't forget that taking down two office towers and killing 3,000 people resulted in a severe impact on our nation and economy.

You can even twist the plot a little. Our own president was riding an elevator a few weeks ago with an uncleared contractor with a bad history and was carrying a weapon. Maybe the sloppy secret service could allow someone with an Ebola tainted cloth come in contact with the President or a family member or member of the cabinet. Maybe aim low and just infect a US congressman.

I think that if 9/11 caused us trouble we have no idea how bad it could really be. Forget about grounding airplanes. If we had a well orchestrated attack we would be shutting down transportation, schools, sporting events. The list goes on.

You are reasonable if you ask if there is anything we can do. I don't think we can completely prevent something this evil but I think we better be prepared. Personally, I am beginning to think that anyone traveling from those areas of Africa should be placed in 21 days quarantine. And I'm not afraid of us forfeiting some civil liberties for the next few months particularly regarding monitoring of telephone and electronic communications. I also suggest being prepared to park yourself and your family at home for at least a few weeks if something does happen.

That reminds me, I better tell my wife to buy some more canned goods!

Virestorm Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Ann Arbor

Alex awoke with a start. She could hear a knocking on her door. At first she was disoriented. She started to raise up and realized she was unable to. As the fog in her mind began to clear she could hear Stephanie in the background calling to her over the music playing. She reached up and remembered she was still in the tanning  booth. “Oh shit” she thought to herself, how long had she been there? She raised the clamshell top and pulled out the earbuds.

“Stephanie I’m fine, I fell asleep. Sorry”

“That’s ok Alex, it happens all the time.” Stephanie rolled her eyes and backed away from her door and returned to her desk.

Alex grabbed her watch. Uh oh, it was already nine o’clock. How could she have slept for an hour on that bed? She could feel the sticky sweat in the small of her back. She grabbed a towel, wiped the bed down and a with a fresh towel wiped her back arms and legs. She must look like a disaster. She pulled on her panties and bra and went over to the mirror. She brushed her hair, applied make up and then put the rest of her clothes on. Paula was going to kill her. If she decided to stand up and do her routine she would have been first up like all of the newbie first time performers. Alex headed out the door and into the main room. Stephanie looked up at her.

“Alex, you owe for an hour and you only paid for 30 minutes.”

Alex rolled her eyes, reached into her purse and pulled out the punch card. “Fine, just punch it I’ve gotta go!”

“Fine, not like it’s my fault you passed out in there you know. Maybe you should be getting your sleep at home.”

Alex was perturbed by this latest comment, partly because it was rude but partly because she really wasn’t sleeping well at night and Stephanie’s comment hit a chord. Alex headed down the narrow wooden staircase and bounded out onto South University Street. She speed walked down the side walk toward State Street. She passed the undergraduate library, better known as the “Ugly” from the old days before they replaced the 1950’s boring brick structure with the new modern glass and brick structure. She saw the undergraduates heading in and out with their back packs full starting their Spring term studies. She made it to Main Street and headed up the steps to the Union building.

The Union building is a red brick structure with peaking roofs and a traditional old school East Coast appearance. Built in the early 1900’s for men only the building is now used for all sorts of University student functions and is very popular for its lounge with frequent band performances and on nights like tonight amateur comedy hour.

Alex entered the heavy wooden doors and went up the hallway to the lounge. She could hear the tail end of laughter followed by applause. She headed through the crowd and could see a table just in front of the stage where Paula’s boyfriend Malcolm was sitting and next to him two empty chairs. She walked up and looked up at the stage. Paula was bowing to the audience and waved and said thank you. She caught Alex’s eye and raised her eyebrows quizically. Alex sat down next to Malcolm. He looked over at her. His ice blue eyes cut straight through her.

“I can’t believe you Alex, you’re her best friend and you missed her entire act.”

“I know Malcolm, look I feel like a total shit ok? I didn’t plan on missing her debut. Today was crazy, I raced over here and I know I blew it, but I didn’t mean to. I wanted to see her too you know.”

“Well, she did great, and you better make her feel like you were here even if you weren’t. She’s been behind you through all of your issues and you owe her more than this. Oh, here she is.” Paula ambled up, she was smiling although her lips were a little tight. When she leaned over to give Malcolm a kiss Alex could see that she was shaking.

“I hope I didn’t make a complete ass of myself.”

“No babe, you were great. We were all laughing. You totally had us. Great job. Didn’t you think she did great Alex?” He gave her a kick under the table.

“Oh yeah, great job. I missed some of it but you totally had everyone eating out of the palm of your hand.”

“Really?” Paula was starting to relax, her tremor in her voice began to settle down. “I wasn’t sure if the joke about Bush nuking the “liberal country of Hawaii” carried well. You know how everyone’s so sensitive.”

Alex didn’t know what to say but Malcolm stepped in and saved her, “You nailed it right on. Maybe the junior national guard didn’t quite get it but everyone else was totally with you. You did great. Do you want to stick around for the other acts or go out for a beer?”

“I could really use something a bit stronger. Let’s head to the Full Moon and get some chili fries and drinks. I’m starving, I never ate, I was way too anxious.” She reached over and gave Alex a hug. “I’m so glad you caught part of the act. I was so pissed I thought you missed the whole thing but you must have been out of my sight. Those bright lights distort, like, everything. Come on guys, let’s get out of here.”

They headed out of the club and turned onto State Street and again on South University.  Students were heading out of their dormitories, apartments and houses and heading in loosely amalgamated groups toward the various bars in town. A few were heading out with stuffed backpacks to pull all night study sessions at one of the several libraries but since the term had just started most students remained in party mode. As they navigated the streets Alex struggled to keep up with Paula and Malcolm. She could over hear the two of them dissecting the monologue to refine and improve it. Even though Alex could practically recite the routine herself she didn’t feel she was invited to contribute.

Eventually the streets became quieter and they reached Main Street. This area was more of a graduate level group of students who tended to be more serious. Evening festivities tended to be less noisy and more intellectual. Branching off Main Street were a number of establishments catering to this crowd for several decades. Most of the bars and restaurants maintained their early twentieth century architectural style with tin ceiling tiles, old wooden floors, and brass railings.

They turned into the Full Moon restaurant. At the entrance outside was an iron gate enclosure and behind it were several tables. Sitting at one of the tables was a thin guy with thin light blonde hair. He was surrounded by a couple of other guys and girls who looked to be graduate students and at least ten years younger. They were watching the thin blonde guy closely and he was gesturing with his left hand which was holding a partially burned cigarette, the right was holding a pint of a dark beer. He looked over to Alex, Paula and Malcolm as they entered.

“Hi Alex, how are ya doing tonight?” He opened his arms and Alex leaned in to give him a kiss on the cheek. One of the woman who was sitting across the table looked Alex up and down and not with a look of approval.

“I’m doing pretty good Vince. They totally bombed me in the lab today. Nine specimens to process from Pakistan, well really only eight arrived. Tomorrow will be marathon part two so I hope you don’t have too many plans for tomorrow.”

“No problem, we’ve been light lately. Hey, you want me to get you a beer?” Now the girl sitting with Vince was really glaring.

“No, it’s okay, I’m going to help Paula and Malcolm celebrate her debut at the Union, but I’ll catch you up tomorrow.” She headed in after Malcolm and Paula who had already navigated past the narrow bar area to an available table. As they walked through more than one of the men at the bar turned to look at Alex. Her near hip length blonde hair was always a potent visual stimulus and was a source of both good and bad fortune depending upon your perspective. Paula caught several of the visual shakedowns in mid view and projected one of her “concerned friend” looks to Alex who was happily sashaying in the midst of the attention.

“Oh, don’t worry, I haven’t anytime for games tonight. With the work load I have tomorrow I only have just enough time for a basket of chili cheese fries and a beer. I still don’t get why you guys just blow past Vince every time we see him.”

Paula rolled her large brown eyes to the ceiling, shrugged, and shook her head a little. She probably understood Alex’s need for masculine attention better than Alex did and she wasn’t convinced that Vince was a “good friend” like Alex was always saying. Paula didn’t really think it took a Ph.D. in psychology to recognize that Alex was eventually going to have to discover a better method of dealing with her father’s absence in her life. Because of this she gave Alex a lot of free space and support. She knew deep down Alex would eventually confront these demons, a few weeks ago after a night of copious alcohol consumption Alex began to discuss her dad. But, the discussion was just the tip of a very deep iceberg.

“Look Alex, he plays this Mayor thing every night. He closes the place down, surrounded by his disciples and the rest of his “city council”. You’d think he’d grow up by now. These girls he dates are like at least fifteen years younger than him. Anyway, I’m not so sure his intentions are true with you.”

“Oh Paula come on, we work together sometimes but besides that he’s totally harmless.  It’s not like I’m going to sleep with him or something.” Just as Alex said this Malcolm walked up.

“Hey ladies I got a pitcher of the draft  weissbeer.” After Malcolm poured three tall glasses he raised his to Paula, “To your triumph at the Union, may we all laugh until our buttons pop and our trousers rip,” with that they all crashed their glasses together in unison.

Moments later Malcolm and Paula were dream talking about her great future career of physician by day and comedienne by night. Alex’s mind slowly wandered to the day’s work and the inconsistencies in the lab specimens. Paula reached over and punched Alex in the shoulder busting her out of her thoughts.

“Oww, what was that for?”

“Well, for like ten minute Alex we’ve been asking you what’s going on in your head and you haven’t responded. Malcolm was ready to call the paramedics.”

“Ha ha. Today was just very strange. There was another flu outbreak, this time in Pakistan. Looks like nine people died but they only sent eight specimens. Anyways, tomorrow I have to process everything. Looks like the weekend might even be burned. We’ll just have to wait and see.”

“Bummer, I was hoping we could take a canoe out on the Huron River together. This will be one of my last weekends for a while since clinical rotations have us doing Saturday Grand Rounds and Sundays we have to work. Let me know if you end up getting any free time.”

Just then the food arrived. Alex hadn’t even thought about eating today, with the frantic work pace she just realized the last thing she ate was that cinnamon raisin French toast at breakfast. She voraciously dug into the fries and half of Paula’s blue cheese bacon burger.

“Wow Alex, I’m glad you didn’t mistake any of my digits for a fry or I would be ruling out surgery as a specialty. I think your enthusiasm for the meal scared away half the single guys at the bar who’ve been eyeing you all night. Of course the other half are wondering if you could do that to a burger, hmmm.”

Alex made a limp chuckle. Her eating habits were a common topic of humor to Paula and admittedly there had been some pretty funny times but she didn’t always like being the butt end of some of Paula’s humor. Anyways, right now it didn’t really matter, she was tired and she knew she better head home and catch up on her sleep, tomorrow was going to be a very long day. Alex broadened her lips into a smile leaned over and gave Paula a hug and a peck on the cheek for Malcolm.

“With that, I must go. Those of us who work for a living get few chances for rest. Ciao guys.” Alex quickly headed for the door, no sashay this time, only one brief eye contact with an attractive twenty-something long light haired guy in a tie-dyed shirt, and out into the Spring night.

Virestorm-Chapter 2 and 3

Chapter 2

Lahore, Pakistan Farmer’s Market

Ten year old Ahmed runs through the market with his younger brother Mastouf close behind. Ahmed is laughing as he rounds the corner nearly sliding on the banana peels on the ground. He skids to a halt and Mastouf runs into him right in front of the bird cages. In front of the boys a cacophony of chirps and shouts break out among the chickens. The boys carefully look through the cages, like diamond merchants scrutinizing a collection of rare gems. The chickens are of various color combinations, some deep red, others white. Most of the birds look malnourished and weak. One is barely moving. Mastouf puts his small hand between the wires of the cage and gives the bird a poke. The bird barely moves and he pokes again. This time the bird breaks out in a riot of chirps and hisses and Ahmed yells at his younger brother, “Get your hand out of there! Are you crazy, that one looks sick.” Mastouf pulls his hand back out quickly and looks down at his feet. He is embarrassed that he disappointed his big brother. Ahmed can see it in his eyes and feels sorry. “Hey, don’t worry, I got a nice one here.” Ahmed shows his brother the big bird with bright eyes and a plume of red and yellow feathers. He gestures to the shop keeper who nods his ok and the boys take the bird out of the cage. “This one looks healthy, I think she can make us some good eggs. We’ll take her.” Ahmed reaches into his pants and pulls out a crumpled pile of colorful bills. He quickly concludes the negotiations with the shopkeeper and they bring the bird home in a burlap sack, squawking the whole way.

As soon as the boys get home they run in the door yelling “Mama we got a perfect chicken, she’s gonna make perfect eggs, come look!” Their mother poked her head out the door of their small one room home and reached over and took a look in the sack. “Perfect, my children, you have found us the perfect chicken. Now go get her into her cage and we can hope for an egg in the morning.” The boys ran in the front of the single room house and straight out the back into an alley. Against the house was a stack of rusty and empty cages. Just as they were getting ready to put the bird in, one of the neighbor boys strolled over. “So, what have you got there Ahmed? Going to give it another try? Birds can’t live here, it’s too dirty and cold back here.” Ahmed looked up at the older boy and just as he did he saw the boy’s younger brothers and sisters form into a large circle around him and Mastouf. “Well why don’t you at least let us see her?” Hesitantly, Ahmed complied and passed the sack around for all of the children to see. After the bird was given a complete tour of all six brothers and sisters Ahmed placed her into her cage with a small cup of corn and a tin filled with water. His mother stepped out into the alley, “Ok, the show is over, time to go home!” And she shooed the other children away.

Chapter 3

Ann Arbor, MI

Alex sits down at the counter of Angelo’s Café with her cup of coffee, in the background just audible over the noise of the small and bustling restaurant she can hear National Public Radio. She bites into her French toast as the news begins to unfold. “Today is the 1835th day since the President declared victory in Iraq. Three more service men killed by IED’s in Basra and scores of Iraqis die in a suicide bomb attack in central Baghdad.  The President says the surge is working…” Alex rolls her eyes. Fortunately, Angelo’s locally famous cinnamon raisin French toast makes the news more palatable. Angelo wanders over to the counter and smiles at Alex. He’s a large man, round with thinning gray hair. He smiles at Alex “More of the same, eh?” Alex looks up at Angelo, his white apron with the patches of grease stains, the warm brown eyes, and his thin gentle smile. “The candidates in this upcoming election don’t have a clue either, Angelo. This war is more ancient than our leaders will ever know and is more complex than they can ever comprehend. Anyway, too much misery for such a beautiful day. Take care Angelo.” Alex takes a look at the check, pulls some bills out of her wallet and lays the money on the counter. As she walks out she can overhear the newscasters, “President Ahmadinejad refuses to back down to nuclear inspections, President Bush irate and threatens action.”

Alex stands, looks out through the old wooden café door and steps out into the sunshine. Well at least today is a glorious spring day. The green leaves on the trees have that intense fluorescent green, the cherry trees visible across East Ann Street have blossoms and all the birds are shouting to their potential mates. Alex smiles to herself as she begins to think of her own potentials when a yell from behind stops her in her tracks. She turns to see her close friend Paula all laughs and giggles. “So, any plans for tonight? I thought we might check out the comedy show down at the union.” Paula has long brown hair, big almond eyes, and an infectious smile. She’s a little heavier than she would like but she this is offset by her generous figure which is on display in her tight low cut brown shirt. “Sure Paula, and are you going to finally stand up and try  out your routine, or do we have to wait for some talent scout to catch you trying your lines out in your bathroom?”

Paula has been a wannabe comedienne since the two became best friends in grade school. She has always been the funny one and Alex the serious one. Paula gives Alex balance and without her Alex would have easily lost herself after going through “the tragedy”. Fortunately, this best friend has always been by her side to cheer her up and keep her social. And Alex has done her part for Paula as well. Back in high school when partying was all the rage there were some close calls. If Alex hadn’t yanked her out of those parties and hadn’t pushed her Paula probably never would have finished high school, let alone been accepted to Michigan.

“Ok, I’ll come by around 7:30 and we can grab some food upstairs at Charlie’s before the show”. Paula smiles and with a twinkle in her eyes she takes off in the opposite direction, “Awesome Alex, see you then!”

Alex heads around the corner and into the Med Sciences building. The building was probably modern and clean looking when her dad was in school twenty-something years ago, but now the white-yellow exterior looks a bit sad and shabby under the watchful eye of the new gleaming University Hospital addition. She swipes her ID card and heads in. Medical students are scurrying around looking for labs and lecture halls. The smell of formaldehyde wafts out of the Gross Anatomy lab around the corner. Alex turns into the stairwell and begins her three story climb up to the microbiology floor. The stairwell railings are black painted iron and probably have their own microflora that could represent it’s own publication. She always avoids those railings, who knew what nasty critters had been innocuously carried out of a lab by a careless and sloppy assistant. At the third floor door she swipes her card again and enters the stained linoleum hallway to her lab. A finger print reader and she’s in. The whole thing seamed ridiculous. Ever since 9/11 they added security to all of the labs. This was before Alex’s time but apparently back then they did background checks on everyone, issued secure ID’s and fingerprinted everyone. Alex wasn’t quite sure what of value could have been taken from the Gross Anatomy lab that would bring terrorism to the hills of Ann Arbor but the laid back atmosphere in the labs was quickly replaced by apprehension and paranoia and more than one post doc left to go into a different line of work. Apparently the stress level had relaxed a bit and now the only labs requiring intensive scrutiny and security were those either working with infectious disease or those using radioactive substances. Both were present in Dr. Zack’s lab and so they gave him a secure floor. Funny thing was that any first year engineering student could probably outsmart the security anyways. Most of this stuff was off the shelf at Best Buy.

As Alex walked in she could hear the news again coming from Dr. Zack’s office. The news now was about Iran and nuclear weapons. The Americans were angry that the Europeans couldn’t get Iran to guarantee to stop enrichment and a lot of posturing was going on. The Vice President, “The Dick” as he was affectionately referred to by Dr. Zack, was pushing for a military strike. The Presidential candidates were split, and the lame duck president was equivocating. As Alex turned the corner she could hear Dr. Zack shouting at the radio. She stepped into his office and he smiled. Dr. Zack was true Ann Arbor. Raised by two Ph.D. parents he had been here all of his life. He was a certified genius and perpetually stuck in the 1960’s despite the fact he was about ten years old when they ended. He always has on a tie dyed shirt, a collection that would be the envy of Jerry Garcia. His wiry gray hair is tied back in a pony tail and he wears gold wire rimmed glasses. He had taken Alex under his wing a few years ago when her world collapsed around her and between Paula and him her ship has been slowly righted.

His blue eyes look Alex up and down and he smiles widely. “Well dear, ready for another day in the trenches? We have another sample of lung tissue from that most recent avian flu outbreak in Pakistan. We need new cultures set up and we need to do another trial for lethality and transmission.” Alex lets out a groan. This was going to be another marathon and there was a very good chance she would not make the show tonight.

Whenever the tissue came in from these Asian countries the shipping was usually very sloppy. Last time the specimen was fully rotted because the cooling packs leaked. Dr. Zack’s lab was one of only three in the U.S. entrusted with these cultures. There was a lot of pressure to identify what mutation would make the virus more contagious. The first lab to figure this out would get a lot of PR not to mention that they would be on the front line of the vaccine program. Even though Dr. Zack seemed like a mellow guy, he was an academician and he relied on grants. No product, no money. His last big success was over five years ago when he helped define the strain of virus that was causing Mad Cow in the US and was able to help the CDC trace the source to cattle from Canada. That little discovery put him in the driver seat for a while, but the departments of infectious disease and immunology were giving him a lot of heat lately for no recent breakthrough on the “avian flu”.

Alex starts to recall the lecture she gave to Dr. Zack’s medical students last term. She was in charge of power point slides in the lab along with just about all the other grunt work. After putting the presentation together Dr. Zack asked her to just go ahead and do the presentation. The whole idea was a bit unorthodox but everything about Dr. Zack is.

The first slide went up on the screen and Alex began the show. “Avian flu” so named because it is influenza virus that is endemic in the bird population but people have been dying from it for a few years now. The virus is scary because the mortality rate can be 80%. We have seen it mostly in Asia because the populations there live in close contact with birds. Every now and then a person or group is exposed to an infected bird, they themselves become infected and more often than not die. There isn’t any treatment except supportive care and no vaccine has been developed yet.

Historically, every twenty years or so, one of the viruses endemic to a different species mutates and enters the human population. Usually the sick, elderly and very young are quite susceptible and die. This is why a cure for the flu is so difficult. New virus types keep on entering the population. Even more scary is that about every eighty years a super flu comes out and kills huge numbers of people. That’s what happened in 1918 and therefore Dr. Zack, the CDC and military have been focusing our research on this bug because we think it is the best candidate for the next bad event.

After the forty minute lecture the students filed out. A couple raised hands with questions but most just quietly moved on. Alex remembers leaving the room, wondering if she was on the correct side of the podium. Her life would have been very different except for one very bad day.

Virestorm-Let the adventure begin

Prologue

September 22, 1918, Vilosplad,  Russia

The gray air filled with the moans of those still alive. The barely surviving were carrying the dead, as they were coughing and wheezing through the rain. The old and the young already gone. Those lucky enough to pass in the early days were buried with respect. Now, large unmarked holes marred the landscape. Filled with the dead in the tattered clothes they ended their lives in. No one left to clean them and dress them. No one left to attend to their final religious rites. The town priest, old and weak before the plague, died soon after the second wave of disease. The third wave though, was the worst. Now they we’re losing the healthy ones. The ones who were supposed to rebuild the community, write about their lives and to remake their future. Just one more blow after a decade mostly filled with war and hate.

Anatoly gazes upon his fellow villagers, or rather, what was left of them and thought “Will there even be one to remember who we were?” The pain felt too great. In the past weeks he had buried his wife, his children, even his grand children. And now he could feel the disease coursing through his own body. And now, even he shakes with fevers, a racking cough, and fatigue. Oh the fatigue. He used to be able to carry two sacks of flour on each shoulder and walk miles. Now, even the weight of his wasted self he can barely carry. No, it can’t be long before it’s his turn for that big hole of hell in the ground. Maybe, if there is something resembling a god, he will be with his lovely Ana once again.

From a hilltop little Ivan watches. No, he won’t go near them. His mother sent him away when she heard about the disease from the next town. She sent him away with bags of barley, dried meat and fruit. She told him not to come down to the village. No matter how loud the people screamed, no matter how much he missed his family and friends. He was to stay away, hide, and she implored him don’t come back until the winter comes. After the ground has frozen it might be safe. “But not a moment sooner.”

Ivan can see an old man shuffle to the graves. He stands over them for a long minute. Swaying to and fro. The rain picks up and its hard to see and then the old man is gone. Ivan turns around and hikes back into the hills, to his makeshift home, to wait for winter to come.

Chapter 1

Spring 2008, Siberia

Two men step out of a black Mercedes sedan. One, very Russian looking. He is heavy, short, thick necked and thick waisted. He scans the horizon with his small dark eyes and permanent scowl. The other man is  tall and very thin. Olive skin and large brown eyes set him apart from the usual visitors here. He is very Middle Eastern looking and very out of place. He walks around to the trunk and removes a heavy sack. He turns to the Russian and with a tilt of his head gestures toward an old man, stoop shouldered in tattered brown clothing. The Russian walks over to the old man and they begin to talk in Russian. They seem to be negotiating. There is some finger pointing. The Russian looks at the old man, angry now. He looks as if he might break him in two. Finally, with a grunt the Russian pulls out a fold of bills. The old man stares at the crisp American dollars as he peals off a few and hands them to the old man. The old man seems wary but gestures them forward.

All three depart the road and hike along a meadow path. The grass is bright green, the meadow erupting in wild flowers. They travel over a hill. Down below is a collection of crumbling buildings. The old man stops. He will not go any further. He points to what is left of the old village. His rheumy eyes look up at the two men. He waits. The Russian reaches into his pocket. He begins to remove his wallet when a loud crack erupts. The old man falls backward with a hole between his eyes and a look of total acceptance. The Middle Eastern man puts his gun away, puts the strap of the sack on his shoulder and begins to hike down the hill toward the abandoned village.

The two men enter the remains of a very old village. The buildings have been abandoned long ago, the roofs caved in and the fences collapsed. They continue down what must have been at one time the main road. The road makes a turn to the right and behind a crumbled fence is a barely visible marker. They begin hiking through brush and bramble over ancient and toppled headstones. Toward the back is a large mound. There is no marker. The Russian turns to the Middle Easterner and nods. The slender man sets down the sack, unzips it and begins pulling out items. He puts on a plastic suit, gloves, mask and goggles. Next he removes a shovel and begins to dig.  The earth is soft now that the frost has melted and the ground is still moist. He digs rapidly through the soft earth and then the ground becomes hard again. He has reached the layer where the frost never melts. He pulls out a pick and swings at the ground to loosen the earth. Hard clumps come up and after toiling for a little while he starts to see shreds of gray and brown cloth. He slows his pace and begins to pick at the earth with finer tools. Soon he has uncovered two bodies one lying across the other. He gets very serious now. He carefully removes the clothing from the torso of a man. He gently cleans the soil away.

For Ahmed knows that great respect must be paid to the dead. Even the infidels are to be treated with respect, even those abandoned and mistreated by their own. He turns to the East and makes a nearly silent prayer before resuming his task. He removes a scalpel and makes an incision on the dead man’s right side. He cuts through the rib cage and inserts a device to spread the ribs. Next he reaches into his sack and removes a thermos looking container. He opens the container by releasing two latches and inside is a second container with a screw top.

Next he changes his gloves and dons two layers. He reaches into the chest and feels the hard frozen lung tissue. Perfect, he thinks to himself. He removes a new knife with a long serrated edge and cuts into the tissue. He is able to remove a piece the size of a tennis ball. He looks at it in the light and can see that the dark brown tissue is filled with a thick frozen yellow liquid. He carefully quarters the flesh and places it in the container. He screws the cap on and applies an adhesive tape around the lid. Next he washes the receptacle down with pure alcohol. Again he changes his gloves. He then places the container into its parent and seals the latches. He reaches into his bag and removes an object that looks like a squat cylinder with a thread top. He screws this into the thermos and twists a valve. A hiss is emitted and the exterior of the thermos quickly frosts over. He puts on a pair of insulated gloves and places this into a collapsible insulated bag that he removed from the sack. Next he gently places a white sheet over the body and says a prayer for Allah to accept the soul of this infidel for the sacrifice he has made for the nation of G-d.

He then covers the bodies with the dirt. When he is done he removes his protective gear. He asks the Russian to turn away and he then removes his clothing. He puts all of this in a pile and soaks it with lighter fluid and ignites it. When the fires is out and he has put on fresh clothes he lays down a prayer mat and facing East prays thanks to Allah for this great day.

The men hike back to the Mercedes and depart.