Outbreak Investigations: The Complete 3-Book Medical Mystery Series

By Jo Carey

This anthology contains the complete 3-book medical mystery series.

Outbreak Investigations follows the top outbreak investigators in the country from their jobs with the CDC and USAMRIID into their own company—Outbreak Investigations. Lane is ex-Delta Force, and Lauren is an MD. 

Each book in the series features a unique take on how disease outbreaks might happen through low-tech means.

 

Book 1 – Viral Politics
Book 2 – Skin Game
Book 3 – Coffee Culture
 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jo Carey
• Release date: Jan 23, 2021
• ISBN: 9781393268130

Jo Carey

Jo Carey grew up in the Midwest but her curiosity and gypsy-spirit has kept her on the move. She's lived in eight US states and spent three years living in Ireland. She has always loved creature movies, so creatures and bugs often show up in her books. Jo, a former information security compliance guru, writes fast-paced, character-driven stories in a variety of genres from medical thrillers to space operas and cozy mysteries. Her novels are filled with humor, romance, and sometimes creatures or aliens, or maybe even all of the above. She often builds her stories around a strong female lead character surrounded by plenty of hunky male heroes. Jo's been under fire on a golf course and climbed out the roof of an elevator in the Netherlands. Life hasn't been boring. Now residing in Texas, setting often plays a huge role in her stories. Jo was intrigued by the League of Planetary Systems, a world her husband, Frank, created for his science fiction books, and she now writes mysteries and other types of tales sets in that world. Jo was bitten by a cat, a fire ant, and a snake, before succumbing to the bite of the writing bug.

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

The news was bad. H311 was spreading far beyond previous outbreaks. The doctor at the clinic said everyone in the village was fine, but Henry was worried. He'd heard stories of whole villages wiped out by H311. He was determined not to let that happen to his wife and children. He listened to the elders telling everyone not to worry, but he worried.

There were stories that if a village had even one infected person, the government would destroy the village with everyone in it. Henry wasn't going to let that happen to his family. He would check with the clinic every day. If anyone was infected, he'd take his family into the savanna and escape before the government could kill them all. He told his wife his plan, and they prepared what they would take with them.

Two villages away the clinic was flooded with people infected with H311. They contacted the government for help. Airplanes dropped supplies of medicines, water, and gloves, but it didn't slow down the spread of the infection.

Don't worry, Henry. It's contained. Our village is safe, Dr. John said.

I hope so, Dr. John, said Henry.

A week later, they got the news that the village with the outbreak had been destroyed. No one was giving details, but he heard that the village had been bombed. Henry hoped that would be the end of the H311 outbreak. It had worked in the past, but things had changed. A few days later Henry's daughter started running a fever. He took her to the clinic, but in his heart, he knew he'd already waited too long to put his plan into action.

By the end of the week, the clinic in Henry's village had been overrun with H311 patients. More and more people were sick. Dr. John did his best to contain the illness, but in the end, another bomb dropped, and another village disappeared.

X X X

Mr. Smythe enjoyed his walk to the office in the capital city. He sat at his desk and checked the morning messages. The news was all about the H311 outbreak. Western Africa was in dire straits. The infection was spreading and the health care system couldn't keep up with the need for care. There were no isolation chambers and very limited protective gear for medical workers. Many people came from across the globe to help, but it was an exercise in futility.

General M called a meeting of his senior staff. He was the ruler of the country but that wouldn't mean much if he was dead. He wanted to find a way to stop H311 and make sure it didn't wipe out the entire population of Numungo. A ruler with no one to rule was a joke.

Everyone presented their reports on the H311 outbreak. The news wasn't good. The outbreak was spreading, and they didn't have the necessary facilities and medical workers to contain it.

I know the picture is bad, but we can't just let this disease take over our country. Surely, someone has an idea of how we can stop this. I will not lose my country to an enemy I can't even see, General M said.

General, we are hoping the Americans and their European friends will help more, Mr. Smyth said

We don't need more help. We need a plan to stop H311. Unless a cure is found soon, our country will cease to exist.

They discussed the hopeless situation until dinnertime, but no one had come up with even one useful idea.

General M dismissed the men saying Go. Think. Find a way to stop this. I need ideas. If you can't help me, I'll find men who are not too weak to do the job.

General M did not believe there was any problem that could not be solved by the application of sufficient force. That was always true when dealing with people and even animals. He needed to figure out how to apply force to a virus. General M had fought too long to gain his status as ruler of Numungo. He would find someone who could come up with a plan to beat this bug.

The world was scrambling to respond to the most recent outbreak of H311 in Africa. In the past, entire villages had been wiped out by H311, but it had always been contained. Until now.

CHAPTER TWO

Whether by an act of God or a fluke of nature, or because travel has become so much easier, the spread of the current outbreak was different. People from infected villages rode on buses, and aid workers trying to care for the sick returned home via plane. The H311 virus was spreading at an alarming rate and no place on earth was sure it was safe.

Mr. Smythe was worried about the virus and about his boss. The general was not known for his patience. If his advisers didn't come up with a good proposal, they would be dead. Mr. Smythe had tried to keep his worries from his wife as was normal in their culture, but it was time to let her know how serious the situation was. Over dinner, he explained all of his concerns.

She was very proud of her husband. He worked hard and was now a leader in their country. They lived in a safe building in the capitol city. By Numungan standards, they were doing well. She'd hoped they'd have a child by now, but God had not blessed them with any offspring yet. Mr. Smythe explained that they were lucky. He had a cousin in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania in the United States. He wanted to send his wife there until the outbreak was under control. She didn't want to leave her husband or her home, but she would be glad to be away from the terrible disease that was killing so many around them. At first, the disease was only in remote villages, but now there were cases even in the capitol city, and she was afraid. Every day walking to the market, she heard someone coughing and wondered if they were infected.

He wanted to send her to Pittsburgh until the disease was under control. If he was killed before that happened, at least his wife would be safe.

It took days to convince her to go, and then weeks to make the necessary arrangements. Mr. Smythe knew that anyone traveling to the US from West Africa was being watched when they landed in the US. There was great concern that an infected person could land on US soil and spread the disease. Many in the US feared that if H311 reached one of the large cities it would be nearly impossible to stop its spread, and thousands would die.

Mr. And Mrs. Smythe devised a complicated plan. It would cost their entire life savings. But, thought Mr. Smythe, what good is a life savings, if you are dead.

She didn't want to leave him. Every day the meetings grew more intense. No one had any idea how to stop the spread of H311. Theirs was a small, poor country with few doctors and no medical research or pharmaceutical firms to press into service to focus on the problem. General M was growing impatient for answers. Smythe expected the general to start shooting his staff any day. The entire country of Numungo lived each day in fear. Some feared the disease would kill them and their families, and others feared the general would kill those the disease spared.

In the middle of the night, under cloak of darkness, Mr. Smythe drove his old sedan to the edge of the city. He had been as careful as he could. Everything possible to assure his wife would make it safely to Pittsburgh had been done. He knew the journey would be long, and she was frightened. All he could do was wait and try not to worry. There were other people in Numungo who were sneaking loved ones out of the country too. Mr. Smythe parked his vehicle behind an abandoned building. He helped his wife from the car, got her bag from the trunk, and led her to the men loading people into an old bus. There were no direct flights to the US from Numungo. Most countries had screening processes in place for people traveling from West Africa to the US. That meant the only way to assure safe passage to the US avoiding those restrictions was to have false IDs and passports. That meant dealing with criminals. Mr. Smythe was ill at ease leaving his wife in the care of these men, but there was no choice. They both knew it would be a long journey fraught with danger.

Mr. Smythe returned to their apartment alone and scared. If the general found out he had sent his wife away, he would be shot. He planned to pretend she was safe at home as long as he could. Until he heard that she was safe in America, he doubted he'd sleep at all, but that would take many days. Every day he worried that General M might shoot him. He worried every minute that the general would learn of his deception. He was afraid his wife would be killed or sold into slavery and never reach the US. He grew more and more nervous which only made him more worried that someone would notice.

Every day the H311 news grew worse. More people infected. More people dead. No hope in sight. The strain of making it appear that his wife was still at home combined with lack of sleep due to worrying about how her trip was progressing was taking a toll on Mr. Smythe. Never a robust man, he was showing the signs of fatigue and worry.

General M held daily meetings to discuss ways to eradicate the virus. The ideas put forth grew more absurd with each passing day. Just yesterday, someone suggested transporting the infected to a remote part of the country and getting North Korea to drop a nuclear bomb on the area. Most of those at the meeting agreed this was too extreme, but they agreed it might work. They were convinced it could be done. General M wrote it on a list of possible solutions to the problem. It was the only item on the list.

Many of General M's advisers were terrified that if they didn't come up with a better idea soon, the general would pursue the only option available. Mr. Smythe was an intelligent man. He knew that meetings like those with General M were happening in many other African nations. Numungo had never been a stable area politically. Most of the countries with H311 outbreaks had unstable governments run by military extremists or dictators. He worried that other countries would come up with the nuclear option and might very well pursue it to the detriment of the entire continent.

Mr. Smythe wanted to flee with his wife, but their funds would only provide for one of them to make the journey to Pittsburgh. His list of worries was long and getting longer. He wondered if he'd ever see his wife again.

CHAPTER THREE

Mrs. Smythe was scared. She'd been scared of getting sick with H311 for months, but this was different. She'd never traveled without her husband. The men leading the group of women and children were mean. They threatened the travelers if they caused a delay or asked too many questions. Not speaking unless asked a direct question, she tried to stay hidden in the background of the group.

She was worried that one of her fellow travelers could be infected. Horrible thoughts filled her head every waking moment. Would the men transporting them sell them as slaves? She knew her husband had taken a great chance to arrange her travel, so she tried to remain strong for him. When they reached the city, they were driven to an old airfield, not the commercial airport. They boarded an old C130 cargo plane. The men that had driven them across Africa stayed behind. There were new men on the plane to watch over them. None of the women or children had ever been on plane. Many cried or vomited. It was a long flight. The seats were uncomfortable, and the stench of the unwashed group mixing with the vomit threatened to make them all ill. Mrs. Smythe pulled her headscarf over her mouth and kept her eyes closed.

She had no idea how long they would fly, and she didn't know how long she could sit there with the smell, the noise, and the worry. She wanted to scream and run away, but that wasn't possible in an airplane. She kept her hands clasped in her lap to hide the fact that she was trembling. She worried that, if she fainted, they might think she was infected and leave her behind. When her terror was about to overtake her, there was a jolt as the plane landed at another deserted airport. This one on the outskirts of a large city.

The travelers were loaded into military vehicles with their luggage. They were taken to the commercial airport where they were dropped off. From this point on, they were on their own. She cleaned up in the restroom and followed the signs as best she could. Before getting in line to check in, she rehearsed what she was supposed to say. Her husband had given her a fake South African passport. He didn't want anyone to know she was from Numungo where H311 was prevalent.

She was so nervous her hands were shaking when she approached the ticket counter. Mr. Smythe purchased the ticket online. It was waiting for so she didn't have to pay. They checked her passport and gave her a boarding pass. She followed the directions to the security checkpoint. Because H311 was not a concern here, there were no special precautions. She made it to her gate and boarded her plane without incident. She wished she could let her husband know she was OK. When she got to Pittsburgh, she would be able to call him or send email.

The flight would take her to Brazil. It was very comfortable, but she was still scared. She kept feeling like everyone was looking at her like they knew she had secrets. Mostly she kept her eyes down and tried not to look at anyone. When she did look at her fellow passengers, she tried to mimic their actions. She was prepared for the landing this time, and it wasn't so scary. The airport in Brazil was crowded with people. She didn't make eye contact with anyone. She walked to the gate for her next flight and sat quietly until it was time to board. This was the flight that would take her to Pittsburgh and the end of her long journey. She wondered how her husband was doing. She hoped the general had not found out she was gone.

X X X

Mr. Smythe spent all day every day in meetings talking about ways to combat the H311 problem. They'd long since discussed and discarded all reasonable ideas. General M was losing his patience. They had been talking about this for weeks. These were his best advisers, and none of them had any idea what to do. There was only one option on the list and that involved a North Korean nuclear weapon. There had to be something else. Something cheaper. He'd have to pay that crazy man in North Korea a fortune to get him to use one of his precious nuclear bombs in Numungo.

It was time to up the stakes. We have talked and talked and talked and still there is only one option on the list. You told me you were smart, but you have no ideas. Nothing. You think doing nothing is acceptable. I believe I must show you that taking no action will not save you.

Before anyone realized what was happening, General M drew his weapon and shot his economic adviser in the head. The man’s head fell onto the conference table and bounced before settling. Those sitting next to the dead man quickly moved their chairs further away. No one spoke. General M made no move to have the body removed. He wanted them to have to look at the corpse. For the rest of the day, they sat in that room with the body. After two hours, the smell of bodily fluids and blood made it impossible for anyone to think of anything but the body. The scene would have been horrific anywhere, but in Numungo where bodily fluids often were the source of H311 infection, it was worse. Mr. Smythe wondered if the man was infected. He wondered which of the men around the table would be the next to die.

I need answers, and you will give them to me. You've provided many excuses for what we can't do. I need something we can do. Go home. Do your jobs. Have ideas for me tomorrow. Real ideas, General M said.

Mr. Smythe was frightened of everything now. Frightened of dying. Frightened of catching H311. Frightened that something bad had happened to his wife. He thought he should just kill himself. It wouldn't matter. He was going to die soon no matter what he did unless he could come up with an idea. A good idea. Since he couldn't sleep and his wife was not there to keep him company, Mr. Smythe spent every night reading about how the governments of other countries worked. He thought maybe he could find an answer by thinking about how other countries would react to an H311 outbreak. What would the US do if there was an H311 outbreak on US soil? He hoped there wouldn't be an outbreak in the US. He had sent his wife there to avoid the disease, but if there was, how would the government deal with the infection?

X X X

Mr. Smythe had been up all night, but he had the start of a plan. A plan he hoped would appease General M. It was a serious plan and would place him in more danger, but he thought it could work. He didn't want to suggest his plan to the general until he was sure that his wife was safe in Pittsburgh. If the general didn't like his idea, he would shoot him for suggesting such a thing. He needed to know she was safe before he died.

While he waited to hear from his wife, he continued his research and refined his plan. Mr. Smythe studied reports on how the US Centers for Disease Control or CDC dealt with viral outbreaks. He read reports about how outbreaks of Ebola had been dealt with starting in the seventies. Mr. Smythe was a smart man. He could learn lessons from what others had done. He refined his plan with the information he learned.

Finally, when he'd almost let the worry completely overwhelm him, he got an email. His wife was safe with his cousin. He had managed to stay alive long enough to know she was safe. He'd propose his plan as soon as possible. The general would either be pleased and promote him or shoot him on the spot. Either way his worrying would end.

CHAPTER FOUR

In the US, the CDC was struggling to quell the fears of the public. The H311 outbreak in Africa had everyone on edge. Some US medical personnel infected while treating patients in West Africa, had been brought back to the US for treatment. Public opinion was divided. Some were not happy to have people infected with H311 on US soil while others felt these medical workers who had volunteered to help those in need deserved the best possible care. The infected patients traveled back to the US in specially outfitted airplanes with containment areas. They were in isolation the entire trip. Once in the US, they were treated at hospitals that had the necessary quarantine facilities to treat them safely. At least as safely as anyone knew how. The public was concerned that all the precautions wouldn't be enough. Some recent mishandling of dangerous substances at the CDC itself had added to the public’s distrust.

Special precautions were put in place on flights to the US from the infected countries. The public wanted the government to take more precautions, but no one could agree on what. Politicians were walking a fine line between being caring and supportive of those suffering from what the media had labeled the HELL virus and protecting US citizens from possible infection.

Politicians wanted to help. The world expected the US to help whenever there was a humanitarian crisis anywhere in the world, but in this case, sending US citizens to help in countries with high rates of infection from the virus could mean putting many Americans at risk when those workers returned to their families in the US. It was a much more complicated issue than sending aid workers to help clean up the aftermath of a tsunami or hurricane.

X X X

In Pittsburgh, Mrs. Smythe was settling in to life with her cousins. They were nice enough, but she missed her husband and worried about what was happening in Numungo. She helped care for the children, cook, and clean around their home. She appreciated them allowing her to stay with them, but she wondered how long she would have to be there. In all the discussions she had with her husband about this plan, she had never once thought to ask how things would ever return to normal. Would she be able to return to Numungo someday?

Mr. Smythe emailed his wife the news that he'd come up with a plan to help their country deal with the H311 outbreak. He'd been waiting until she was safe before sharing his plan. She knew what that meant. If General M thought it was a good idea, Mr. Smythe would be a hero. If the general didn't like the idea, he would shoot her husband on the spot. She prayed it was a very good idea.

X X X

Mr. Smythe woke earlier than usual. He reviewed his notes and wrote a letter to his wife before heading into the office. If this went badly, it would be his last day on earth. He was prepared for that. He thought it was a good idea, but it was complicated and he worried that General M wouldn't have the patience it required.

The general opened the day's meeting as he had for the past six weeks with a tirade about the need for action and the lack of useful ideas. It hadn't escaped the five men in the room that their number was dwindling. There had been eight of them when this started. One man had been shot as an example. Two others had vanished. Rumors swirled as to whether General M had them killed or they ran away. The five men left in the room knew that each passing day brought them closer to suffering the same fate. In some societies in other countries, these men might have continued their brainstorming outside the office and spent every available minute trying to solve this problem and save their lives, but in this culture, it was every man for himself. At the end of each day, the men returned to their homes happy to have survived the day and fearful it would be their last.

When General Mumbatutu finished his opening remarks, Mr. Smythe rose from his seat. Well, it appears that one of you has finally come up with an idea. Mr. Smythe, I hope this is an idea that has some actual merit. Please explain what you have in mind, the general said.

I believe I have an idea to help us with this problem. I will admit that it won't be a quick solution, but if it works as I believe it will, there will be little or no cost to our government, he explained.

It sounds promising so far. Please go on, the general said.

I realize that our options to handle the H311 outbreak ourselves are non-existent. Because the virus has infected people in our cities, we can't isolate it as was done with past outbreaks. I thought a lot about how the United States would deal with an outbreak in their country such as we have here. We've seen that when the Americans are dealing with the infection of their own people they can find ways to treat the illness and they have miraculous ways to contain it. We have none of those options, Mr. Smythe continued.

Mr. Smythe, we know of all this. I don't see how this helps us. Please move quickly to your point or our numbers may decrease yet again, General M said.

I suggest that someone in our country allows himself to be infected with H311. It should be someone who has family connections in the US. The infected person would travel to the US immediately so that they don't infect anyone until they arrive there. They should be able to reach the US well before developing symptoms and becoming contagious. Once in the US this person would make contact with as many citizens as possible. His job would be to infect as many people as he could. If possible, he should travel to more than one city so that the infection is widespread, Mr. Smythe said.

While the thought of infecting the pompous Americans is appealing, I fail to see how this helps us, General M said.

When the Americans are faced with the real threat of an H311 outbreak on US soil, they will mobilize all of their considerable assets to fight the disease. We'll want to make sure that they learn where the infection originated. They'll find solutions for themselves first, of that there is no doubt. But they will also have an interest in stopping the infection at its source here in our country, so no one else can travel and spread the infection. Mr. Smythe took his seat.

Mr. Smythe I believe you may have found a workable approach. We only need to develop the details of the plan to make sure this single individual has the greatest impact possible in the US. I assume you are volunteering to carry out your plan since I know you have relatives in the US, the general said.

Unfortunately, Mr. Smythe hadn't realized that the general might feel he was the appropriate person to perpetrate this plan. At least, in the US, he might stand a chance of surviving the disease, and he would get to see his wife again. He had no option but to agree.

CHAPTER FIVE

For the next two weeks, Mr. Smythe was treated to every luxury their poor country had to offer. They worked out a detailed plan for the travel involved. The timing had to be precise. They had to be sure that Mr. Smythe was infected no more than twenty-four hours before boarding a plane to the US. Even allowing for delays, he should arrive before becoming contagious. The general was paranoid that the US could intercept any conversation or email, so Mr. Smythe was forbidden from contacting his relatives until he arrived.

Mr. Smythe closed up his apartment, said farewell to his friends, and set off on his mission. He had been provided credit cards and funds to allow him to move about the US once he arrived. His passport indicated he was from an East African country not affected by the current H311 outbreak. A military plane flew him to Zimbabwe. General M had called in many favors to work out the details of the plan. Mr. Smythe had to trust that his secret mission was not found out.

From Zimbabwe, he took a commercial flight to South Africa. There he boarded a plane for Brazil. He started the last leg of his journey on board a US based airline. He was excited to see his wife but terrified of the illness he carried. Mr. Smythe didn't want to be sick, but he knew his chances of survival improved greatly when he was on US soil. He was scared of dying, but he knew, if he stayed in Numungo, General M or the virus would have killed him. At least this way, there was a chance.

His flight landed at Dulles airport in Washington DC. From there he rented a car and drove to Pittsburgh. The sheer numbers of people everywhere amazed him. Seeing the country for himself, he now understood the US fears of an epidemic of H311 in their country. He purchased a burner phone at a truck stop off the highway and called his wife. He didn't explain the details telling her only that he was in the US and on his way to Pittsburgh. She was very excited. He didn't think she would be so happy once she knew what he'd done.

A voice in his head told him he shouldn't see his wife or cousins. He didn't want to infect them, but he had to see his wife one last time. Mr. Smythe promised himself he'd take precautions. At a drugstore in a small town just over the Pennsylvania state line, he bought a mask and antibiotic soap to help protect his wife and a thermometer to take his temperature. A rise in his temperature would be the signal for him to start traveling and infecting as many Americans as possible.

Mr. Smythe wondered if he would be considered a terrorist. He didn't think so. His intention wasn't to inflict pain on the Americans. His intent was only to secure aid for his country. He knew some people would question his methods, but it was the only solution they had come up with. He realized if his plan was discovered, and he survived the H311, he might spend the rest of his life in a US prison, but that was better than dying a horrible death at the hands of H311.

In Pittsburgh, he followed the directions his cousin sent and arrived at a small house in a suburb on the south side of the city. When he saw his wife, they both cried tears of joy. He had no idea how this was going to play out, but he was happy for the opportunity to hold her one more time.

His cousin's home was huge. The Smythe's apartment in Numungo would fit in just the kitchen and living room. There was a yard behind the house that looked like a city park. His cousin made coffee and the three of them sat down at the dining table. It is good to see you cousin. I'm so glad you are here and safe. Our home country is not a safe place to be. My wife is upstairs putting the baby to bed. She'll be down later. So how was your trip? his cousin asked.

The trip was fine. The general arranged everything, Mr. Smythe said.

Why? his wife asked.

I am here on a mission for Numungo. Mr. Smythe went on to explain the plan to his wife and cousin. His wife understood why he would agree to this plan, but his cousin had been in America a long time. He was angry that his family was in danger of being infected. The minute he heard the plan he sent Mr. And Mrs. Smythe out into the night. He rushed back into his home and began cleaning everything his cousin had touched with bleach multiple times. He threw out the cups they drank from.

What are you doing? Where are our guests? his wife asked.

They're gone. We must clean everything.

What's going on? his wife asked again.

Refusing to give her an explanation, she let him clean and left him alone. She assumed his cousin had said something to offend him.

Living in the US had Americanized him, but he was still distrustful of the government. He wouldn't contact the authorities for fear they'd assume he had helped his cousin enter the US. He felt badly that his family could be responsible for the deaths of many innocent people, but he didn't know what to do. If he could think of a way to stop his cousin's horrible plan without putting his family at greater risk he would do it.

In houses throughout the US, families watched the nightly news and grew concerned about the outbreak in West Africa. The healthcare workers who'd been infected in Africa and returned to the US for treatment had recovered. Containment had worked, and there were no further cases on US soil. The situation in Africa was dreadful, but at least, it wasn't here. Or so they thought.

CHAPTER SIX

Mr. And Mrs. Smythe drove away from his cousin's home in silence. They checked into a cheap motel on the outskirts of Pittsburgh. Mr. Smythe checked his temperature. It was almost one hundred degrees. He was contagious. He begged his wife to take some of the money he'd been given and set off on her own. She refused. They were in this together. Together they could infect twice as many people. After a proper reunion for a husband and wife, they would drive west, infecting people wherever possible.

They knew that the only way to spread the disease was through direct contact with the bodily fluids of an infected person. Part of the planning was figuring out how to make that happen without it being obvious that it was intentional. The general and his advisers had spent an entire day coming up with ways that this could be accomplished.

They came up with a variety of ways that Mr. Smythe could spread the disease in the US. He and his wife would do many things to increase the chances of infecting others. Pricking their fingers with a lancet allowed them to leave blood drops in public places. The Smythes would be sure to leave a drop of urine on the toilet seat of each public restroom they visited. Once the fever struck, Mr. Smythe would change his sweaty shirts every few hours and give the old ones to homeless people he encountered. They had pills to induce vomiting. They would use those when they were in a crowded public area.

The Smythe's route targeted small cities and towns. He had intended to concentrate on one large city, but the other men advising the general decided it would be best to infect people in smaller cities and towns that were less prepared to deal with the problem. The Smythes would try to stay out in public as much as possible until they were too sick to continue. When they could no longer drive or be out in public without attracting unwanted attention, they would go to a small hospital. One with no equipment to deal with an infectious disease of this type. General M hoped that by the time the actual cause of the illness was determined, many hospital workers and medical personnel would be infected. Each person they infected would spread the disease further.

Mr. Smythe had accepted the risk, but he held out hope that the Americans would save him as well as his country. Now he hoped they'd also save his wife.

The Smythes drove west stopping frequently to interact with the public. Gas stations, convenience stores, restaurants, and shopping malls were all targets. The end of the trip selected by the general was Guymon, Oklahoma, a small town in the Oklahoma panhandle, an area known as no man's land. They stopped for short sleep breaks but planned to push on as long as possible. They wanted to end up in a small remote hospital that wasn't too close to a large metropolitan area with better resources for dealing with a virus like H311. The frequent stops made for slow progress. Worried that he was getting sicker and soon wouldn't be able to drive, Mr. Smythe showed his wife the basics of operating the car. She drove while Mr. Smythe slept. She was scared, but she kept going.

As she drove, Mrs. Smythe thought about how she ended up like this. It had been so hard to make the trip to the United States only to be infected by the disease she'd come here to avoid. She didn't understand, but she did as her husband asked. Mr. Smythe could drive for only an hour before needing to sleep again. She asked him to go to the hospital in the next town they came to, but he wanted to reach the goal the general had given him.

Mr. Smythe was burning up with fever. Every few hours he woke, drank water, and fell back asleep in the back seat of the rental car. She wanted to take him to a hospital but feared something bad would happen if she didn't follow the plans her husband had made. Mrs. Smythe didn't stop unless she had to. She no longer cared about trying to infect more people. Getting her husband to the hospital in Guymon, Oklahoma was all she could think of.

X X X

Back in Numungo, General M kept tabs on the H311 outbreak in his country. He had assigned one of his advisers to monitor the news from the US for any indication that H311 had been found on US soil. He knew it would be a few days after Mr. Smythe arrived in the US before anyone with active H311 symptoms went to the hospital. It could take as long as twenty-one days for someone infected to show signs of the disease, but he was not a patient man.

Mr. Smythe emailed that he was in the US and starting his journey across the country. After a few days with no news that their plan was having any affect, one of the remaining advisers suggested that one person infecting people might not be enough. Wouldn't it be better to send more people? The sooner a lot of Americans became ill with the virus the sooner they would find a solution and share it with the world.

The general agreed. Each time a new person was infected and sent to the US they took a shorter route and cut out many of the precautions they'd taken with Mr. Smythe. They planned different routes sending the disease into every geographical area of the United States. When the first reports came of an infection in the US, General M smiled at the news of his success. He had sent six infected people to the US, and it worked. He just had to wait until the US government recognized the extent of the problem and set things in motion to find a solution. When that happened, he'd contact the US government and US news agencies pressing them to share any cure they developed. He would be the concerned leader pushing the US to help save his people. Surely, that would make him more popular at home and around the world. He would be the caring leader who pushed the mighty Americans to help his citizens.

X X X

It was a quiet night at the hospital in Guymon, Oklahoma. Often the night shift on a weeknight could pass without one person coming to the ER. Weekends were busier, but Dr. Stewart couldn't complain. He was happy to have time to catch up on reading medical journals or just grab extra sleep. The journals were full of stories about the H311 crisis in Western Africa. He'd never been involved in a serious viral outbreak, and he hoped he never would be. Dr. Stewart couldn't imagine how difficult it must be to treat patients in the conditions he saw at many of the African clinics. He hoped the HELL virus, as the media had dubbed it, never gained a foothold in the US. But alas, hope is not a plan.

When Mrs. Smythe passed the Welcome to Oklahoma sign, she cried. Tears rolled down her cheeks. She'd been watching the mileage signs and knew that it wasn't far to Guymon. She was terrified that her husband would die and just as terrified that their plan would be found out. Gripping the steering wheel so