Six cold weeks had passed since the virus had been discovered. In Washington, a desperate mother had watched her daughter deteriorate and an ambulance was now on its way.

“Just hold on love.”

The child groaned as the red blotches began to appear all over her stricken body. A frantic knock made her run.

“Thanks that you are here. She’s in the bedroom.”

“We have another one mate,” Wallace said.

“What do you mean by that?”

“No worries mam. We have to get your daughter into isolation at once.”

“I thought it was just an allergy.”

Wallace shook his head.

“Help me put her on the stretcher mate.”

The paramedics placed her gently into position and rushed from the loving home. As the siren screeched, Wallace checked her temperature.

“One hundred twenty, respiration low, blotches dominant.”

“What has she got then?” the mother asked.

“We call it firepox mam. Don’t you worry though.”

“I’ve never heard of it.”

“Neither had we until a few weeks back. Seems we are here.”

The ambulance drew into the grounds where many more were heading out. As they rushed her inside, the hard-pressed receptionist was none too pleased.

“Take her straight to isolation.”

When they reached it, Doctor Proctor did a quick examination.

“She’s definitely into stage two. Nurse.”

When she arrived the doctor said, “Have we any space left?”

“No doctor.”

“Then evacuate ward three and we will use that. We need to contain this.”

The frantic mom just stared.

“How bad is it?”

“We have two hundred cases here, and from what I’m told, it’s the same all over.”

The evacuation went quite smoothly, and the latest patient was wheeled into the new isolation unit.

“How bad is it going to get?” the nurse asked.

“You tell me.”

As the mom sat beside her ill child, she smelt something unusual. She wiped her nose and coughed.

“You alright babe?”

A nurse smelt it too and tried to usher the parent out.

“I’m not leaving.”

“It really is advisable mam.”

As she tried to drag her out, the girl began to shake violently and white smoke rose from the bed.

“What’s happening?” the mom screamed.

A security guard rushed in and dragged the horrified woman out.

“It’s happened again,” the nurse said. “That new child case.”

Doctor Proctor nodded.

“Where is the mother?”

“We took her to isolation ward six.”

“That may work I suppose. We can’t treat the poor devils.”

The nurse dropped her voice.

“Is it true the president will declare a state of emergency?”

“I really don’t know nurse. Reports I see say we have at least a
million cases nationwide. As for fatalities well...They seem to be running at fifty percent.”

The overtaxed medic thought for a moment.

“I need to speak to the receptionist again.”

When he got there, he picked up the phone.

“Operator. Get me the governor.”

Within isolation, three more victims’ self-combusted as the medic spoke to the man in charge of the crisis.

Governor O’Malley could trace his ancestry all the way back to a simple Irish farm. A no nonsense individual, he prided himself on his crusade against crime.

Now he was seated with his staff, discussing the latest developments.

“All our hospitals are full sir. We have no place left to send them.”

“Then they stay at home sir. Within the hour, it won’t much matter either way. The president is to declare a national emergency.”

“What powers will that give us?”

The governor stared at him.

“I’ve been told Condine One will be activated.”

“That’s monstrous. We can’t have troops sealing off the hospitals to leave those inside to die.”

“The president feels we have no choice. As for powers well. The National Guard will reinforce our police...”

“Not many of them left anyway.”

“Perhaps not,” the governor replied. “Any protesters, any looters will be shot on sight.”

“We are actually going to do this?”

The governor was firm.

“Law and order must be maintained at all costs.”

His number two coughed.

“You alright?”

“Just hay fever governor. What about ambulances?”

“When the troops move in those will be used to pick up the dead only. We need to start burning them.”

“With no ambulances the sick will simply die.”

“It may sound cruel but it will have to die. I’ve issued
instructions to our police to keep away from the ill for obvious reasons. I’m not ordering their shooting.”

“Well that’s a relief. Any latest news?”

“Doctor Proctor reports he has opened a sixth isolation unit. It won’t do him much good now.”

A secretary entered with some bad news.

“Sorry governor. I have Mr Chapman’s lawyer on the line. Asking for clemency.”

The governor glanced at the clock.

“Tell him no deal. His client has no right to an appeal.”

“Sir. He says that Mr Chapman has the illness.”

The governor smiled.

“Then frying should cure it. Just tell that sob no deal.”

As she left to say just that, Mr Chapman was waiting in his quiet death cell.
...
Convicted fifteen years earlier for rape and murder, the new governor’s arrival had doomed his plan for survival. The death penalty had been reintroduced, and now it was his turn.

“Time to go Chapman.”

He looked up at the six guards.

“No appeal then?”

“None I’m afraid.”

Chapman had felt unwell for a day or two. Even as his wrists and legs were manacled together, blotches were starting to appear.

“I’m an ill man you know.”

A guard laughed.

“You certainly will be ill soon. Come on now.”

He walked slowly down the short hall and into the death chamber. Sitting quietly, the lockdown team set to work.

The straps took moments to secure and as the prison warden entered, the witness screen was drawn back.

“Anything to say Chapman?”

He gazed at the family of the victim and shook his head. The death shroud was placed over his face, as the jaw strap was firmly tightened.

As the warden stepped back to avoid electrocution, Chapmen began to fit as white smoke rose around him. The horrified witnesses watched, as his body quite literally fell apart before them. The lever had not been pulled.

Doctor Proctor was almost asleep with exhaustion as a nurse rushed up.

“You have to see this sir.”

She led him to the front entrance where armed troops were busy barricading them inside.

“What are they up to?”

“I heard the radio. All medical facilities are in quarantine.
Something about Condine One.”

The doctor had never heard of it. He spotted a junior doctor walking past and grabbed him.

“Go outside and tell those idiots that we need ambulance access.”

The young man smiled and pulled the door open. A rapid burst of fire cut him down. A gruff voice hollered, “Try that again, and we will use shells.”

Doctor Proctor gazed in horror at the bleeding body.

“Come on nurse. Nothing we can do for him.”
...
After the national address, President Wilma Harris sat quietly at her desk reading the latest reports. Across both hemispheres, the virus had taken a firm hold.

In Russia and China, those showing symptoms were being shot on sight. She was determined this would not happen here.

The door suddenly burst open and two CIA men rushed in.

“I hope you have an explanation?”

“Sorry mam but it’s time to leave.”

Wilma shook her head.

“My place is here, working to halt this crisis.”

“Sorry mam. We have been ordered by Admiral Kimmel to get you to Pearl ASAP.”

She recognised the name of course. Head of Pacific Command. He had threatened to resign, when she ordered that all sub activity around the Mariana Trench should cease at once. Only the promise of future promotion had kept him in situ. It seemed that her former boss was trying to upstage her.

“You tell the admiral to go and take a hike.”

The embarrassed agents were somewhat dumbfounded.

“You don’t seem to realise mam that the report is out of date. Things have moved on.”

She shuffled the papers and sat back.

“So how grave is it really pray tell?”

“The latest info is on Air force One mam. Now please come with us.”

She stood at last and said, “Once we reach Andrews contact the USS Virginia for me.”

“The admiral has already done that mam. Captain Vanderhofen is waiting at Pearl.”

Wilma smiled and said, “Should be nice seeing an old friend again.”

She saw the E 4-B waiting for her at Andrews, and was quickly hustled aboard. As it hurtled into the air, she found herself alone in the briefing room.

The actual aircraft was in fact a mobile command post, fitted with the latest tech for defeating jamming etc. It could also communicate with satellites and other hardened command posts.

As the senior general entered, she pointed at the empty seats.

“Where is everyone?”

He grimaced and handed over the latest situation report.

“Where for instance is the defence secretary?”

“Dead mam.”

“I take it that the VP is at Colorado then.”

He shook his head.

“He died at Norton mam. At home.”

“How bad have we been hit soldier?”

He sat down sadly.

“Congress and the senate have been wiped out mam. You are the last senior exec to survive.”

Wilma was deeply shocked.

“What of the armed forces?”

“At the last count we had sixty percent losses mam.”

Wilma shook her head. As she opened the report and read, her mood became even grimmer.

In a nutshell, the virus was now out of control. Government was failing across the country and the world. The CDC was unable at this time, to find an antidote for the firepox outbreak.

She put the report down.

“The last line predicts extinction within six months.”

“That is why you need to be on that sub mam. It seems those crews are safe at present.”

She understood.

“How long until we land at Pearl?”

“Approximately six hour’s mam. I strongly suggest that you sleep.”

She nodded and walked toward the rest area at the aircraft’s rear. She would sleep fitfully, as the world fell apart around her.
...
In Washington that day, a group of protesters had decided to march upon governor’s house. A line of heavily armed National Guard’s men blocked their way.

“Go back to your homes,” the commander warned.

The crowd were in no mood to listen and surged forward. When the bullets struck home, only three managed to escape with their lives.
...
“We have arrived mam.”

Wilma woke with a sudden start.

“How are things?”

“A little worse mam. The emergency broadcast system is starting to crumble.”

“You mean we are losing control?”

He nodded grimly.

Wilma stepped onto the tarmac and into the waiting jeep. When she arrived at the quayside, an old friend was waiting.

“Evening madam president.”

“Less of that captain. A simple mam shall suffice.”

She turned toward the following agents.

“No need to go any further now. Return to the plane and await further orders.”

“Shall we go aboard?”

“Of course mam.”

As they strolled toward the gangplank Vanderhofen asked, “Why did you remove our missiles mam?”

She smiled pleasantly.

“Let’s just say that I’m scheming something.”

As they reached the command area, she took him to one side.

“We are losing captain. This virus has us beat. I have to hope that the chaps at the CDC can come up with a solution in time to save our species.”

He nodded grimly.

“Where to?”

Wilma turned to the helmsman.

“Take us out of port, fifty miles due north and go to five hundred.”

“Yes mam.”

She gazed around at the familiar faces.

“Miss me captain?”

Vanderhofen smiled.

“Nice to have you back mam.”