“It’s okay. I’ll do it,” Bianca says, gently pushing my hand out of the way and taking the needle from my trembling hand.
“But…”
“I’ll do it, honey. And you shouldn’t have to put the IV in your daughter, anyway.”
The two-tone alarm from the monitor in the corner isn’t reassuring. Nor’s the yellow flashing warning on top. I feel like I should be helping so Bianca can concentrate on more important things, specifically doing everything possible to make sure Addy's okay. Bianca reaches over and silences the alarm before returning her attention to Addy who’s at least now making moaning noises and trying to flutter her eyes open.
This minimal improvement hasn't removed my heart from my throat, though. Apparently I was just standing there, frozen, after she collapsed. Someone else dived in and sprinted with Addy to the medical RV. I arrived just in time to completely fail to do anything useful. My hand stopping an inch from her arm, the needle just above her clammy skin, unable to do the one job I could, theoretically, help with.
“Sorry, sweetheart, it’s going to be a sharp poke,” Bianca says just before she glides the needle in. Addy barely seems to register it — either Bianca's just that good or…
I see the flash of red as she quickly draws off a couple of tubes and passes them to a helper — one who's actually helping.
“Caitlin,” I say uselessly. “I’m sorry. I wish…” I risk a glance at Marcie’s face; she’s watching us closely. It still tells me nothing.
Ash is wound around Caitlin like ivy, her eyes big, staring at Addy’s blank face, both of them looking pale. With her free hand Caitlin’s holding Addy’s. “Whatever it is, it doesn’t matter,” Caitlin says. “All that matters is that we’re here for her.”
I watch as Bianca does a quick calculation and hangs a bag of saline. The pump’s one of our donations, the saline too. She looks at the small stack of boxes that the bucket-line army brought in. “What’s in there that might be useful?” Her amber eyes bore into me.
I step across unsteadily, feeling her, feeling Marcie, feeling everyone tracking me. I point at the first box. “Painkillers, mostly. Muscle relaxants, some light sedatives, also a portable electrolyte analyzer. This one’s fluids and TPN. That one too. There’s another couple of pumps in there. That little one’s some more IV kits, tubing, tape, dressings, antibiotics, some basic first aid shit. We already gave you a lot of that stuff so there's not bunches of it.” I move my hand back quickly so I can stop seeing my own tremor.
“Here’s the blood gas.” The same woman who took the blood away returns and hands Bianca a narrow strip of what looks like an old-school receipt. “The lab results’ll be like fifteen minutes. Jenna’s working on them now.”
Bianca studies the paper for a second, then looks relieved. “Okay. No acidosis. Good.” A look of relief spreads across her face. “I think she’s probably just dehydrated. You said she’s been sleeping a bunch?”
“Yeah, they all have.” I gesture toward Caitlin and Ash, too.
“Huh.” She glances back at the monitor before returning her focus to Ash and Caitlin. “Okay. We’ve got a minute while we get some fluids into her, so, Ash, you know how much you weigh, sweetheart?”
Ash untwines herself and stands, thinking. She glances at me, then at Caitlin who nods encouragingly. “I think about the same as Addy?” she says uncertainly.
Bianca gives Ash a quick smile, looks at me, then at Caitlin questioningly.
“I think they were about the same at the last checkup: around ninety-something pounds,” I say, finally pulling the number from my memory.
“Okay! Well then, if they are about the same, we can use Addy’s weight for Ash for the moment. It’s just for a rough calculation anyhow.”
She busies herself at the small prep area before returning with a couple of bottles — just in time for the monitor to check Addy’s blood pressure and start chiming again. She glances at it, then taps Acknowledge. “Right. So, her blood pressure’s still a little low, but it’s stable,” she says in the same reassuring tone I heard her using on others yesterday. “This one’s for you, Caitlin. I want you to drink this over the next hour. And this one’s yours, Ash. The same. I know it doesn’t taste amazing, but it’s important. You’ve both probably been sleeping a lot and not drinking enough. Hydration’s real important out here — especially when you’re sick. Caitlin and Erika, you need to make sure Ash drinks hers. Ash and Erika, you need to make sure Caitlin doesn’t water a cactus with hers, or something.” She smiles.
Marcie stands up, stretches herself out and then looks meaningfully at me. “I imagine you want to wait for our conversation until Addy’s doing better.”
“Please,” I say, perching on the small folding chair Bianca put out for me.
“We can take shifts babysitting you both until then. I don’t want you and Caitlin talking about — what we need to discuss —” she says, glancing toward Ash, “not until we’ve had a chance to talk to you separately.”
“Marcie, I could really do with fewer people in here,” Bianca says. “Can’t I just keep an eye on them? I don’t know what’s going on, but I don’t think Erika’s really a problem. She was helping out lots yesterday.”
“You checked your messages today, honey?” Marcie says quietly.
“I’ve been kinda busy.” Bianca spreads her arms to indicate the full gurneys crammed in every possible space in the otherwise nearly stripped out RV.
“Fair,” Marcie says. “Although you never do read the damn messages.”
“But Erika was in here yesterday helping me out until I kicked her out for tripping over her own feet with exhaustion.”
“Look, I understand it. Wanda thought she—”
“Moms?” Addy says weakly.
“Addy!” Caitlin and I exclaim.
“Don’t sit up, sweetheart,” Bianca says. “Your blood pressure’s still kinda low, and you’ll probably feel dizzy again.”
“I hurt,” Addy whimpers. “What happened? Where am I? What’s this in my arm?” she says with increasing anxiety.
“It’s okay, Addy. You’re safe. Just — just let the nurse explain,” Caitlin says, her hand squeezing Addy’s tighter. I find myself reaching out and stroking Addy’s hair into place.
“I think you fainted,” Bianca says. “The thing in your arm’s a tiny little plastic tube. It’s so we can give you some medicine to help you feel better. I think you’ve not been drinking enough fluids since you’ve been sick. So that’s what that big bag is — it’s lots of salty water.”
“Eww,” Ash says.
“Yeah, it wouldn’t taste great. That’s why we’re putting it straight into Addy,” she says, smiling gently at Ash. “Addy, can you tell me who these folks are?”
“That’s Mom C, and that’s Mom E, and that’s my sister.”
“Great! What’s the last thing you remember?”
“I was real tired after breakfast so I went to lie down… and then I was here?” Tears leak from the corners of her eyes; I lean over and hold her gently.
“It’s okay, Addy, it’s okay. That’s all good. You’re doing super well. Sometimes when we faint, we forget a little bit of what was happening just before. Your moms can fill you in on the little bit you forgot — but it might just come back to you. I’m going to go get you some medicine to help with the pain. I can get that now you’re awake.”
I slowly become aware of the noises in the RV outside our tiny bubble. Glancing around, I see the people I helped with yesterday, the ones deemed sick enough to have to stay within Bianca’s view. Unlike yesterday there’s not much whimpering — most people actually seem relatively settled. Bianca follows where I'm looking. She leans over and says quietly, “That’s the meds you gave us yesterday. Normally we have a good stock — but we’ve been burning through them real quick. And where we get them from’s been shorting our orders. I don’t know what’s going on with that, but I’m sure Marcie will fix it. She’s good people. But, thank you for those, they were a big help. And for this.” She gestures at the stack of boxes.
“I, uh, on that I don't think I can really take any credit. But so long as you look after Addy, and those two, then you're welcome.”
“I don’t know what you did to worry Marcie, but I’m gonna tell you now, you can trust her to do the right thing.”
“Thanks… I’m just not sure—”
“Okay: Erika, Caitlin; one of you can stay with Addy and Ash here. I don’t mind who stays and who goes. But you both need to explain yourselves.”
“Moms? What’s going on?” Ash asks.
“The President and his friends say some of the things I did at work were bad things,” I say carefully.
“But you said he’s full of poop. And you said Addy was right when she said that he’s a stupid-head.”
“I did say that,” I say, laughing a little. “But these folks just want to check that I didn’t really do anything bad.”
“You’ll come back, right?”
“I’m plan—”
“She will,” Marcie says firmly. “C’mon. Looks like the decision’s been made.” She gestures toward the door. I pause to give everyone a quick kiss before I step, blinking, out into the scorchingly hot sunlight.
#
“Sangatham? Why’re you here?”
“I asked if Marcie minded if I sit-in.”
“Oh, okay,” I say hesitantly.
“See, the thing is, you seemed genuinely sorry for what’s going on. I really believed you were sorry. So I… I want to know if I really did misjudge you that badly.”
“Oh,” I say, my heart sinking.
“Pick a seat then,” Marcie says impatiently.
I look around and pick one pretty much at random. They’re all thankfully under a shade; it doesn’t exactly make the heat pleasant, but it’s more bearable out of direct sunlight. When I look up, I realize I’ve managed to pick one of the two with a perfect view of the medical RV. I crush the anxiety about what’s going on in there into a tiny cube and stack it in the room of things I really can’t think about right now.
“So you’re a Nebraska girl?” Marcie says, holding up her tablet with The Times article still on it.
“Uh huh.”
“And you went to Minden High School?”
“Uh, yeah.”
“So did you have Mrs. Prososki for math?”
Shit.
“Uh, I can’t remember? It was a while ago.”
“Uh huh.”
“But you must have been there when the new building opened?”
“I — I… was, yeah. The old place was falling apart. It was so much better in the new one,” I say, trying to infuse the statement with authenticity, while hauling something out from ‘my’ history.
“My friend says the new principal then — McFadden — he was a nightmare.”
“Uh, yeah, I guess.” It’s been so long since I went through real Erika’s history and the list of staff and teachers’ names I once had memorized has evaporated. “I — I don’t really remember much stuff before the accident very well,” I say, relying on the old excuse. “I have a lot of amnesia around everything that happened before.”
“Hrm. How about this? Your parents take you to The Lodge, or The Rise for, like, a nice dinner?”
“Marcie, what is this?” Nervously, I look back and forth between Sangatham and her.
“It says in this article that you were born in Kearney, Nebraska,” she says, tapping the screen. “In fact, it says a ton of stuff about Erika Smith — the girl who grew up to become the anti-homeland gender extremist, Dr. Erika Morgen,” she says, adding scare quotes.
I swallow slowly and wrap my arms around myself, letting the clamminess of my palms meld with the sweatiness of the T-shirt. I can feel my pulse bouncing through my veins.
“But this article’s real interesting. See, thing is, Kearney isn’t a huge place. Took us but half an hour to find someone went to Minden same time as you, and to get a few questions to ask. She remembers you — Maddie her name is.” I attempt for a trying to remember the person but drawing a blank face. “Uh huh. She says to look her up after. Says you were in dance club together.
“For future reference, you could have had Mrs. Prososki for math, but Mr. McFadden? Made that shit up. And boy did she have some choice words about the state of the old building when they moved. Not the sort of thing you’d forget.”
She runs her finger around the edge of the screen distractedly.
“The local paper recorded you as dead. They got that information from somewhere. And see, I got our Kearney friend to send some pictures from her yearbooks. Aged them up.” She taps on the screen again, turns it around to face me. “It doesn’t exactly look like you, does it? Not a definite no, I guess it’s not impossible. But then there’s no pictures of you anywhere online from high school ’til one graduation photo at the end of college. Nothing of you after the accident in which you, apparently, did not die. In fact, getting pictures of the newly notorious Dr. Erika Morgen has proven to be weirdly difficult. Probably why The Times used some AI aged-up picture, too. That makes me all kinds of curious.”
“I — I don’t like cameras.”
“Uh huh.” She taps her fingers on the metal of the chair, the gaze of her almost black eyes resting on me; studying me carefully. “And, to be fair to you, I can’t prove you’re not Erika Morgen. Or more accurately, that you weren’t Erika Smith. But your answers so far haven’t exactly made me think that you and her are the same people.”
Shit.
“So, Dr. Morgen, persuade me. While you’re at it, you can tell me what you really did that’s so terrible the CDC, the FBI and apparently Neuragene want to grab you.”
She watches me as I struggle with working out exactly what I’m going to admit, but just as I open my mouth she holds her hand up. “Oh, one sec, I nearly forgot.” She leans down to grab something from the bag by her feet. “Yeah, one other thing before you start. What’s this?” Marcie holds up the spray. “And save your complaints about us going through your stuff. You can bitch about that on Verity if you want. I figure you should have guessed we would.” She shrugs. “Honestly, most of it was pretty reassuring. But this. This was interestingly hidden for a nasal spray you can just buy over the counter, which was not reassuring.”
Oh, no. I was premature. Now is when I think Shit.
“Okay,” I say, taking myself back to the shapes place for a moment. “Okay.” I sigh.
Sangatham’s attempting to look uninterested, but I can see every muscle is taut and he’s watching me with fierce intensity.
“That…” I begin. “That you might want to put someplace safe? And before I say this, I should explain that I made it last week, after people started getting sick. I mean I guess everyone this side of the camp’s got the virus anyway, but that’s y’know, that’s, well, that’s a lot of the virus.” I watch as Marcie’s face reforms itself into a look of pure horror. “It’s a clean copy of it — so no mutations. I—
“I made it so that Caitlin, Addy and Ash could — if we needed to — be infected with a version we knew would work. In case the virus mutated by the time they caught it.
“Honestly, I made it at work just in case, I didn’t really think we’d end up using it. But — we gave it to — shit, was it only yesterday?
“Jesus, it’s been insane.
“Anyway, well, we did give it to Ash and Addy. We figured Caitlin was far enough along already that it wasn’t worth it.” I keep talking over Sangatham’s sputtered attempt to interject. “They’d already caught it. But I wanted… No, we wanted to be sure that Addy gets, uh, the full effects of the virus. Since she’s — since the effects would be beneficial for her.”
“Wait, is she sick?” Sangatham asks.
“You could say that. The virus’ll help her,” I say. Marcie gives me a knowing look.
“And you made this at work? At Itero?” she asks.
“Yeah. I used the genetic sequence that I got from Neuragene.”
“Okay. Well.” She puts the spray down carefully on a small table next to her. “I didn’t expect you to be quite so forthright. Thought I would have to dig a bit more.”
I look at the medical RV, its brown and gold paint flaking in the sun. Listen to the hum of its ancient AC units struggling against the heat. “Addy needs your help. Hell, Ash and Caitlin might too. I figure if I lie they’re fucked.”
“We don’t really — that’s not how we do…” Marcie says. “Your kids would be fine, and Caitlin too, if she’s honest with us. But yeah, if I think you’re lying, you are for-sure fucked.” She leans across to a small cooler and pulls out a soda; offers one to Sangatham, who quietly declines. I’m not surprised to find that I don’t get offered one. “You want to start at the beginning?” Marcie says, folding her arms.
“Really not, no,” I say, a manic laugh finding its way out despite my best efforts.
“Okay. Let’s try a different tack. What’ll Caitlin say?”
“She’ll ask what’ll happen to Addy and Ash if something happens to us.” I finger-quote something. “Which is, I guess, what you’ve just answered.”
“Yup. Like I said, if anything happened to you, we’d make sure they were kept safe.”
I feel my shoulders drop; a little tension escaping. “Well, then she’ll tell whoever she’s talking to—”
“Ella. Blonde hair, six foot tall. The woman who carried Addy into the RV. Shockingly, she’s not into sports at all,” Marcie says, surprising me with the warmth in her voice.
“Ella. Well, she’ll tell Ella that I was trying to develop a vaccine.”
“And were you?”
“I was.” I relax a hair more, this is safer ground. “I have been. The thing that article says that is true is that I have been looking at the virus, almost exclusively this one virus, for years. I’ve been trying to build a vaccine for those that want one, but… the virus was carefully designed to make building a vaccine hard.
“Not impossible. And once we have a vaccine, it should be pretty effective, it’s a very stable virus. Although—”
No Erika, now is not the time to get into your own ethical dilemma about a potentially life-long vaccine that blocks a possibly life-saving treatment for trans people.
Just stick to the facts.
“Never mind. But getting that vaccine to work — in secret — without an easy way to test it? It was all theoretical. And I didn’t want Neuragene… No, that’s not really true,” I say, warily eyeing Marcie, “I didn’t want or trust Oaklen to have it. Or to have control over it, anyhow.”
“How’d you get the — the information? The code? Whatever you needed to make it?” Sangatham asks.
“I —” I pause, knowing each second is costing me trust. But the ground around any story I tell now is filled with quicksand.
“I… I knew someone involved with the project at Neuragene,” I say, carefully. “She was involved in the development of the virus and she was upset about how Oaklen planned to use it…” I trail off. Taking a slow breath I continue, “When she realized people had gotten infected outside of Neuragene, she figured there should be a vaccine. For folks who wanted one. So, yeah, thanks to her, I got the code and the data and started working the problem. But I had to do it in secret.
“I think I’m close — I gave my research to Brandon when we ran. I hoped he could publish it — work with some of the better researchers we’ve worked with — do the final steps to test it. To make sure it’d work. To get it so it’s out there for folks who need it.
“I was way too slow, though. I got lost in having kids, and having a life. I should have spent more time on it. Sangatham,” I say, looking him in the eye, “when I said I was sorry, I meant it. I really am sorry.”
“You didn’t try to warn anyone this was coming?” he says, sounding shocked.
“…No.” I eventually admit. “But who could I have told?! You’ve seen what they did to my home… They literally found out about me in the last couple of days, and now my house is a charred wreck and every rent-a-cop in the country is hunting for me.”
“How many people are going to die, Erika?” Sangatham asks, his voice eerily calm.
“I — I don’t — I don’t know exactly. There are too many variables.”
“How many, roughly? You must have an idea,” he says again, the edge in his voice is harder now.
“Sangatham…” Marcie says.
“How. Many. People. Erika?”
I close my eyes, steady my breathing. “Millions,” I whisper. “At least tens, probably more. Probably hundreds. Hundreds of millions of people,” I say, swallowing down bile.
They gasp. When I can bear to, I open my eyes and find them still staring at me in disbelief.
“The CDC never—”
“Sangatham, do you think Miller would let them?” Marcie says, even though she sounds like she still doesn’t believe it. “Even if they still had enough scientists working there who didn’t just say what he wants?”
Eventually Marcie breaks from staring at me and turns to Sangatham. Something passes between them before he tilts his head and they both face me again. “That number — how sure are you?” Sangatham says.
“As certain as I can be without real data,” I say, feeling like my throat is filling with the desert sand. “I — uh.” I rub my finger against the pad of my thumb, giving me something tangible to focus on. “Look, this is all a guess really. An educated one, but a guess. But,” I hold up my hand and enumerate, “First: even in a hypothetical best-case, where hospitals were actually still hospitals not slot machines for venture capital, and where the US had functional links between hospitals, we just don’t have capacity. The US has fewer than a million hospital beds in total. We’d need twenty, thirty million, something like that. Probably more, even, to treat everyone who’s going to need to be in hospital at the same time.
“And it’s not like all the beds we have are available anyway. People don’t stop having heart attacks and strokes and falling off ladders because there’s an epidemic. And,” I say, fanning the flames of the pyre on which the effigy of trust in me is burning, “of course, nurses and doctors are gonna be sick too — so even where beds are empty there might not be staff to look after people in them.” I look at the fear on their faces. Part of me wants to stop, but I know I can’t. If I don’t tell them the whole of it then in a week’s time they’ll be wondering what the hell else I didn’t share. I need them to believe me — to have faith that I’ve come clean. And if they’re going to get rid of me, well, better get it over and done with — not undermine Caitlin, Addy and Ash’s safety later.
I catch Sangatham’s gaze, then Marcie’s, dragging them back to the horror. “Second; even if we just teach people to throw IVs in each other and how to give basic fluids, we don’t have the capacity to make enough. Trying to get fluids for the lab — they’ve been on-and-off back order. A while ago, we had to get some from Canada. Took months to get through all the trade fuckery. And it’s not like we can just buy in from anywhere else, anyhow; everywhere’s dealing with the same problem. Everywhere’s fucked.”
I wait a moment until Marcie, at least, nods. “Third: the best case scenario numbers involve the CDC actually being competent not being run by an asshole with a vendetta. The asshole who commissioned the damned virus I might add. And who, I think, would very, very much like to be vaccinated against it. And would very, very much like to remind me who’s in charge.”
“But it can’t be that…” Marcie trails off before she gets started.
“I’m sorry, I really am. But the hospitals are going to be overwhelmed. It’s barely got started and they’re already overwhelmed. Bianca said wherever you get meds from is already running dry?” It takes a bit, but Marcie gives a slow nod. “Yeah,” I sigh. “So yeah let’s say half of the men who catch it get, like, a little dose — and maybe my guess is right, maybe it takes longer for them to get properly sick than it does if you get a big dose,” I say, carefully avoiding looking in Sangatham’s direction. “Well, those guys might not need to be in hospital at least at the start. You might get some staggering of demand. But in the lab — the data from Neuragene suggested weeks of support for those who got a decent dose of it and I don’t know if that extrapolates right. But I believe it probably does.” I put my head in my hands and drag my fingers through my hair before I look up. “I’ve spent far too long thinking about this happening.”
“And yet you kept it secret? You didn’t tell anyone? You decided to keep trying to be a damn superhero.” Sangatham growls. “Well, how’s that working out for you? For me? For everyone?” He stands up, grunts a little from the discomfort. “Marcie,” he says, quietly, “I don’t know what you’ll decide to do with her, but whatever it is, I want no part of it if she stays.” I watch him walking slowly away in silence.
Marcie stares after him, tapping her fingers absently against the can.
“Against my better judgment,” Marcie begins slowly, “I think you’re telling the truth. At least, some of it, anyhow.” She looks off into the distance for a while. “Well, shit,” she says. “I guess I’ve got a lot more planning to do for the folks here.
“How much does Caitlin know?”
“Everything.” I sigh. “Most of it I told her just before we ran.”
“And are you going to tell us who you really are?”
“I’m really Erika Morgen.”
“And you grew up in Nebraska?”
I watch the desert for a while.
It’s still out here; the breeze that arrived chilling us last night has long gone. It’s just hot. And the shimmering across the skyline — across the sand — is entirely from the heat. I know that. I’ve been out in places like this enough to know the lie of it. The mirage of a cool fresh pool of water lying just in the distance is all that it is. If you got there you’d find there was no water, there’s nothing but sand. It’s all a deception.
Marcie sits, waiting. Waiting and watching me wrestle with myself.
She’s not threatened me, not directly. At least, not with anything worse than some threat of being taken away. Of being ‘fucked.’ Sure, there’s a gun clipped to her belt; but out here, that’s pretty much the norm. I don’t figure she’d use it unless she thought I was going to go for her.
I watch the medical RV; the flickers at the windows from the movement of Bianca and her assistant. Addy, inside, reliant on them all.
“You promise you’ll make sure Ash and Addy are safe? And Caitlin? None of this is any of their faults,” I say cautiously. Not daring to look at her.
“That’s a promise,” Marcie says.
“Then the honest answer is no,” I whisper. I realize tears are streaking down my face. I don’t know when I pulled my knees up to my chest, but I pull them in tighter, wrap my arms around myself.
Marcie snorts. “Didn’t think so. See, there may not be pictures of Dr. Erika Morgen, PhD, out there. But she’s damn well sat in front of me, and you know who there are pictures of? Dr. Tavish Shah.”
My breath catches. I slowly — so slowly — turn to look at her. “I don’t know what you—”
“Don’t. I know you don’t think I’m that dumb. Either public enemy number one had a sister no one’s thought to mention, or you caught it, or maybe you gave yourself the damn virus.”
“I—”
“Oh shit, you did! You gave it to yourself? You need to work on your poker face, Dr. Erika Morgen.
“Jesus.” She looks me up and down. “How long ago?”
“Twenty-seven.”
“Holy moly. This has been out there since twenty-seven?”
“Yeah,” I say, unsteadily.
“So, what, then you accidentally infected someone else?” I nod. “Huh, and Neuragene clearly didn’t know about that — or about you.” She pauses, clearly thinking.
I’m still trying to work out how to get air into and out of my body since all the autonomous functions seem to have stopped working.
“You built it. Oh shit, so you built it for Oaklen? And then stole it?” Her eyes grow larger as she says it, staring at me.
I fractionally nod.
“Why?”
“I wanted it for — for me.”
“Well no shit, you’re trans, aren’t you. Or you would have been back when you could be. No one else is gonna make girl-flu and give it to themselves.” She laughs. “But why’d he ask you to make it?”
“Because of my research befo—”
“No, dumbass, why’d he want this virus?”
“Oh. Oh. He — he sells us, I think. Trans people. People trafficking for folks with very specific requirements. I don’t know exactly. He didn’t like my version of the virus, it was too effective — does too much. I guess it ruins the mood for chasers when the girl doesn’t have a dick. But I fled before I could find out more. So it’s just rumors really.”
“Huh. Well, that’s interesting knowledge,” she says, visibly filing it away.
“So why now? Why’d you release it now?”
“I didn’t. Jesus. I swear I didn’t. It — it has a latent period and then it reactivates; becomes infectious again. It’s years.” I breathe. “I think the massive flu season triggered it to wake up in enough folks.”
“Well, shit me.”
“Are — Are you going to turn me in?”
“What, to those fuckers? No.” She laughs. “Goddamn. I wouldn’t piss on them if they were on fire.” She fiddles with the tablet again. “I don’t know what we are going to do with you though.” She downs the remainder of her drink and tosses the can in a high arc into the trash can. “Okay,” Marcie says, standing up. “That’s enough for me. At least, for right now. Pretty sure I’m gonna have more questions for you later.”
“Can we—”
“Well first I need to check in and see what Elle has to say; and whether your wife told her the truth.”
“Oh.”
“Then you can see your girls.”
#
TO: [email protected]
FROM: [email protected]
SUBJECT: RE: Oh who’s the fancy bitch deadnamed by the pres?
Penny,
There’s a woman at this site who connected me to Tavish. Her name’s Marcie. No one’ll tell me her last name.
She’s at Lees Ferry Campground, AZ
She seems to be in charge?
She’ll probably tell Wanda at Jemez Springs. I dunno who else. There’s some kind of network.
I don’t know if there’s anything to do, but I wanted to warn you.
Sorry.
Erika Morgen
#
Acting President Davis’s Actions Block Reinstatement of President Miller
WASHINGTON — Following news earlier today that Vice President Davis and a majority of the Cabinet had sent a written declaration challenging President Miller’s fitness under the 25th Amendment, Acting President Davis moved decisively to restrict Mr. Miller’s ability to transmit a counter-declaration to Congress. Mr. Davis sent the initial declaration during Mr. Miller’s transfer to Walter Reed National Military Medical Center after what White House aides described as a “minor syncopal event.”
Since that time, Mr. Miller has remained at the facility pending further tests. Physician to the President, Dr. Oscar Taylor, stated that the President’s condition remains stable, and that he is fully able to discharge his duties. A statement at odds with the letter sent by Mr. Davis. A copy of the letter seen by The Times includes the assertion by Mr. Davis that President Miller is disabled by a virally induced intersex condition.
Immediately following submission of this letter, Mr. Davis formally initiated the process of guardianship for Mr. Miller. In doing so, Mr. Davis rendered Mr. Miller legally incompetent. The legal implications of the gender assessment required under Mr. Miller’s Executive Order, “Defending Our Homeland from Gender Ideology Terrorism,” commence on receipt of the formal notification of gender variance. This notice can be lodged by any qualified individual; however, the statement must contain evidence of gender or sex transgressive behaviors or symptoms. Mr. Miller continues to strongly deny any such symptoms.
While the 25th Amendment normally allows for the President to resume full presidential duties immediately following a written rebuttal, Congress remains deadlocked over whether to accept President Miller’s counter-declaration, which was received after the guardianship assessment request was filed. Some members of both the Cabinet and Congress have stated that, without a proper medical assessment, Mr. Miller’s letter lacks the required authority.
In a written statement, White House Counsel argued that both Mr. Miller’s general medical records and those of the Physician to the President, are covered by executive privilege. White House Counsel also stated that the examination completed at Walter Reed Medical Center by Dr. Taylor fulfilled the requirements of the formal gender assessment, with Dr. Taylor sufficiently experienced to complete the required standard genital exam.
However, both Mr. Davis and his supporters note that Mr. Miller’s Executive Order requires a physician with expertise in gender restorative therapies to conduct the exam; a certification not held by Dr. Taylor. Some members of Congress suggested that unless Mr. Miller is willing to submit to an assessment by a properly qualified independent physician, it is possible that his counter-declaration would be subject to further legal challenges, further delaying his ability to return to office.
Not all members of Congress are comfortable with the situation. Senator McLeary, R-FL, stated that the actions taken by Mr. Davis undermine the executive branch, and set a dangerous precedent that could cause future presidents to hide serious medical conditions. “President Miller would never put productive citizens at risk,” he said during a press conference shortly after the complexities of the situation became apparent. “The 25th Amendment was never meant for something as minor as a viral infection. President Miller is, I am certain, taking medical advice from the finest professionals and — if he is even infected — he will recover. No true man would succumb to such an enfeebling weakness.”
In a speech from the Oval Office, Mr. Davis stated that Mr. Miller’s recent legislative and executive actions, including his appointment of new CDC Director Dr. Oaklen Rue, demonstrate impaired judgment. He went on to state that Mr. Miller had negatively affected the country’s ability to rise to the challenge of fighting 2031-nHSMV.
However, in its statement, White House Counsel argued for the importance of stability during the ongoing national emergency. “The United States currently faces an unprecedented threat from the ongoing spread of 2031-nHSMV. Disrupting the presidency at this point will cause significant geopolitical instability.” White House Counsel urged Congress to rapidly bring the reinstatement of Mr. Miller to a vote based on the contents of the declarations, and not to delay by seeking additional internal executive branch documents. Both representatives and senators state the arguments made by White House Counsel fail to address the requirements of Mr. Miller’s executive order, an action which is, in Mr. Miller’s own words, “vital for the protection of the infected and the uninfected.”
Following his assumption of control, Mr. Davis immediately rescinded President Miller’s executive order establishing quarantine zones, citing undue impacts on both commerce and trade. “Honest capitalism built this fine country, and corporations are the organizations best equipped to bring us safely and cost-effectively through this challenging time. President Miller’s barriers to trade and to effective fiscal management underscore how the feminizing effects of the virus have made him both illogical and emotional. In this time of trial, the United States needs a strong, masculine leader to stay the course of success.”
CDC Director Dr. Rue was en route to Itero Biotechnologies for conversations with the research team that worked with the terrorist gender extremist, Dr. Erika Morgen. Dr. Rue declined to comment on the new approach to the management of 2031-nHSMV being taken by Mr. Davis. Dr. Rue did, however, take the opportunity to deny any suggestions of impropriety in his appointment and to pour cold water on the suggestion levied by Mr. Davis that his friendship with Mr. Miller had factored into his appointment. He stated, “I serve at the pleasure of the president and regardless of who that is, I will continue the CDC’s mission to preserve our citizens’ health, well-being, and fiscal success. I am certain that Acting President Davis will use every tool available to protect Americans.”
Healthcare providers, however, have been less effusive. Healthsystems Hospitals Group CEO Marshall Renick reassured stakeholders that his network was well placed to take the lead in treating those impacted by the disease, stating, “The resulting exceptional financial performance likely to be seen in coming quarters will reflect increased facility usage.” However, Mr. Renick also expressed concern regarding the capacity and capability of U.S. hospital systems to absorb the likely influx of patients. “Only time will tell whether we have chosen the right approach,” he concluded.
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TO: [email protected]
FROM: [email protected]
SUBJECT: RE: Oh who’s the fancy bitch deadnamed by the pres?
| There’s a woman at this site who connected me to Tavish.
No shit. She’s a regular Sherlock.
I’ll see how bad it is.
Again.
Penny xo
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“She’s sleeping,” Caitlin whispers when Marcie finally lets me in. “Bianca gave her a sedative and some more painkillers while Ella and I were talking. And now Ash is helping Bianca.” She smiles and points down to the far end of the RV where Bianca’s showing Ash how to use a stethoscope. “The painkillers and that revolting drink really helped — she’s doing way better. Even I’m feeling a bit more human.”
I exhale. “Jesus Christ, at least something’s going right.”
“But,” Caitlin pulls me into a hug before she whispers, “she thinks Addy might need to be transferred. Ash doesn’t know yet.”
“Why?”
“Her blood pressure’s still low. Bianca says she can’t do much more for her here. She’s said they’re just not equipped for it. She’s hoping it’ll pick up with a little more fluid but she said — well, she might need to be moved.”
“Moved where? We can’t go to a hospital…” I say, panic edging my voice.
“She wouldn’t say. Just that they’d move her — and us — somewhere else. Somewhere they have better equipment and ‘cooler drugs.’”
I watch as Marcie and Bianca talk, their voices hushed.
“Well, I guess if we gotta, we gotta,” Marcie finally says, throwing up her hands in frustration before stalking outside.
I wrap my hand around Addy’s, drop my head onto the narrow edge of the gurney.
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“Wake up, sleepyheads.” Bianca nudges me and Caitlin. “Sorry, we don’t have enough space for you both to hang out in here. And Addy’s probably going to sleep until the morning anyhow. If you like, one of you can stay here. I’ll tell Alex you might want to swap out — just in case. He should be here in ten.”
“He? In…here?”
“Well sorta he. He’s post-viral. And the ‘he’ bit, I guess that might change. Alex said he doesn’t mind if I share — I think he really meant with some of the other guys just starting to deal with the effects, but since it’s information that’s just out there…
“He told me he’s started to question whether he ever really was a guy — like a guy-guy. He says he doesn’t think he really cares either way, but it’s force of habit at the moment. So yeah, he, but he’s a work in progress. Anyhow, Alex used to be a clinic nurse over in Amargosa Valley. Alex is a good — uh — person.” She laughs. “I guess we’re all works in progress now.
“Anyhow, I just gave Addy a touch more nap-time medicine and some more painkillers, so you and Ash should go eat.”
I sit up, suddenly realizing I’ve no idea where Ash is.
“She’s over there, honey,” she says, clearly amused by my mild panic. “She’s fine. She’s sleeping.”
Ash is curled up in a position that looks staggeringly uncomfortable — the sort of position which would make me wake up and regret it instantly — on a combination of the office chair Bianca uses for charting and one of the folding chairs that she’s propped against Bianca’s desk.
“Thank you for looking after her. For looking after them both.”
“Oh, honey, it’s my job. But Ash’s a sweetheart. A credit to you both, honestly. She’d make a great nurse. Or doctor, if she’s dumb enough.” She fiddles with the sheet around Addy’s feet, making sure she’s tucked in. “So, Marcie said y’all should head over to hers, she’s prepping y’all some dinner. And you’ll be staying with her tonight — she said they’ll hopefully find you something to stay in tomorrow. There are a couple of spare old RVs kicking around the—
“Anyway, she’ll get one of them in until Addy’s well enough for you to head onward.”
As we walk over to Marcie’s, Caitlin whispers, “How much did you have to share? I told them about your work on the vaccine…”
“I had to tell them everything, Caitlin.” I rub my hands across my neck. “Well, more accurately, Marcie guessed pretty much everything. I tried not to drag y’all down with me, but I’m so, so, so fucked.”