Milwaukee Deep

President William S Stoker approached the dais as the press gallery sat quietly awaiting his statement. He cleared his throat as the room held its collective breath.

“Today a nation mourns the loss of a great American. George Francis Willow was a patriot, a soldier, a leader and above all, a friend. He was a man of his word – of his convictions. He understood the meaning of the word ‘honour’ and ‘valour’ and made those words his own.

“Abraham Lincoln once said…’I do the very best I know how - the very best I can; and I mean to keep doing so until the end’...

“George Willow certainly lived by those words and we as a nation are thankful and grateful that he did…”

His cell phone vibrated in his pocket. Crane turned away and exited the room and answered his phone.

“Yes?”

“Sir, I hope I’m not interrupting, but you told me once we completed the autopsy I should call you.”

“Good. I’m at the White House. I’ll make my way to the office and I’ll call you back. I need a secure line before we discuss anything.”

“Certainly, Sir, I’ll await your call.”

Crane turned around and headed towards the Oval Office. On the way he passed two secret service men - both of them nodded slightly in acknowledgment of their superior.

Crane entered the room, walked to the phone that sat on the President’s desk and dialled the number…

“Hello, Sir,” came the response from the other end of the line.

“Okay, what have you got?”

“Well, Sir, it’s safe to say that Ganton was not infected with the virus as we know it.”

“How certain are you?”

“Certain enough - our test came back with a negative match to the strain of the virus we have at our facility.”

“So how do you explain the gymnasium?”

“Well here’s the thing, Sir, the virus was still active within Ganton. The only difference between Ganton’s strain and the one we have secured is its ability to reproduce. Ganton’s strain was not contagious. It failed to release itself through the skin ducts as we know it should.”

“Hold on,” Crane interrupted, “If the virus was active in Ganton, how is it he survived?”

“The virus is not lethal to the host, Sir. It is only lethal once it leaves the host - once it’s airborne.”

“Okay, so getting back to my first question, how the hell did those people die in the swimming pool?”

“It was Ganton’s blood, Sir. The virus evolved. Somehow his blood carried the original virus strain. If you came into contact with it, well it had the same affect as if it were airborne. He must have contaminated the water with it.”

“But do we know why his virus strain was different? Why the virus didn’t get out?” Crane asked.

“We can speculate. We found a cardiac mass, a tumour, attached to Ganton’s heart. Upon further investigation we found the mass had been ruptured. We believe this had something to do with it.”

“Believe, or are you certain?”

“Well, Sir, we cannot be one hundred percent certain, however, we have uncovered enough to hypothesize our theory.”

“And that is?”

“That the mass attached to Ganton’s heart contained the original strain of the virus. Our tests indicated that the nucleus of the virus had been generated from this mass and if it hadn’t ruptured and had been allowed to gestate for the required period it would almost certainly have given the virus the ability to run its natural course.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning that if Ganton’s cardiac mass hadn’t ruptured and the virus evolved as it should have, we would all be dead by now, Sir.”

“I understand. I assume you are going to confirm this with further tests.”

“Yes, Sir, we are. The body is being dismembered as we speak and we’ll continue to run tests on the virus strain that Ganton’s carrying.”

“Is there any risk of further contamination?”

“I don’t believe so, Sir. Ganton is being kept under very tight security. Our robotics team will continue with the testing. No human contact is allowed within the chamber where the body is being tested.”

“Good. Keep me informed of the outcome. Hopefully we can find a cure soon.”

There was a brief silence.

“Sir, I mean this with no disrespect. But if they can’t find the cure then we certainly won’t.”

Sam sat quietly in the leather bound chair reading a magazine he had grabbed off the coffee table. He flicked the pages, skimming the articles, hoping and waiting for one to catch his attention.

Michael sat opposite him, not at all interested in doing anything. He just sat there, reflecting on a life not lived.

Sam had had enough of the two year old Time magazine…

“Michael, what’s on your mind?” he asked hoping to start a conversation – something to occupy the time until Jensen contacted them.

Michael looked up.

“Huh?” he hadn’t paid any attention to what Sam had asked.

“I said what’s on your mind? I’m bored, talk to me.”

Michael looked at his shoes.

“I was thinking of my daughter,” he replied softly, “I still can’t picture her being twenty years old, no matter how many times I try.”

Sam immediately thought of Emily. He realised how difficult life must be right now for the man who sat opposite him.

“It must be tough,” he said. “What you’ve been through, well, I don’t know how you’re doing it.”

“Badly, I can assure you,” Michael answered.

Sam produced a tiny smile, but didn’t respond. He wasn’t sure how to.

“So what about you? Michael asked, “Do you have any children?”

“Yes, two - I have a daughter, Emily, she’s just over three, and a son, James, who was born two months ago.”

“They change your life forever, don’t they?”

Sam nodded his head, “They sure do.”

Michael’s eyes began to water - the thought of missing out on his little girl’s life cut deep. He tried hard to keep from crying, but the pain was too strong, he couldn’t hold back the tears any longer.

“I miss her, Sam,” he blurted out, “To have missed all of her life - to know now what I know – that I’ve lost her forever. She died along with Kelly the other night. I can never see her now – I could never expect her to forgive me for walking out on her. I left her - her and her beautiful mother. They both had to fend for themselves – to get by on what they could,” Michael dropped his head, “I failed them. I failed them both, and now my wife’s dead and I’m never going to see my daughter again.”

Sam sat and watched as the man opposite him fell deep into a sorrow he hoped he would never feel. He didn’t say a word. He knew nothing he could say would make things better. The fear of saying the wrong thing kept him quiet. Shrouded by the guilt he felt for starting the conversation in the first place meant all he could do was to allow Michael to deal with the pain the only way he could – the only way he knew how - alone and in silence.