July 8, 2020
“…Happy birthday to youuuuuu.”
Aaron blew out the 31 candles that Jenny had somehow managed to cram onto a single cake. “Thanks you guys. Jenny, you’ve got the voice of an angel. Mike, that was like a concert of musical whales: majestic and yet utterly off-key.”
“I’m gonna let that one slide because it's your birthday.” After Aaron relaxed, Mike swiftly swatted him on the back of the head. “I can’t believe you fell for that. Sucker.”
“You’re getting more cunning in your old age,” Aaron grumbled.
“Children. I’m surrounded by children.” Jenny shook her head ruefully as she passed out slices of birthday cake. “You sure I can’t convince you guys to do something more fun this weekend than harvesting wheat? We can keep the birthday celebrations rolling all weekend long.” The accompanying awkward shoulder shimmy failed to entice Aaron, though Mike’s attention was certainly captured.
“Sorry sweetie,” Mike said regretfully. “Wheat waits for no man. Well, I guess I should say it waits for no man, assuming the birthday boy can manage to get off his ass and fix the combine’s grain header soon.” Mike answered.
“I guess I’ll be spending my birthday weekend fixing the header that my idiot brother somehow managed to break. Shouldn’t be too tough. Looks like the reel got a little out of alignment but it’s usually an easy fix.”
Finishing his overly large slice of cake, Aaron pushed back from the table with a low groan. “That was delicious, Jenny. Thanks for the lovely dinner and for such a nice birthday celebration. It’s been too long since we’ve done something like this.” Seeing Jenny’s reproachful glare, he hastily continued. “I know that’s mostly my fault. I’m just glad that you guys moving in has given us a chance to get closer and become more of a family.”
Attempting to distract from his impending emotional breakdown, he started to collect the dirty dishes from the table, but Jenny snatched the plates out of his hands.
“Give me those. It’s your birthday, so you won’t be doing chores. You go upstairs and read a book or watch a little TV or something.” She handed him a glass of his favorite bourbon and gave him a gentle shove towards the spiral staircase leading up to the loft.
Throwing himself down onto the couch, Aaron turned on the TV and let the inane chattering of a cable news show wash over him. Some talking head or other was blathering on about the chaos generated by the President and Vice-President both collapsing from COVID yesterday, but Aaron didn’t have the energy to focus on it. Days, weeks, and now months of constant discussions, debates, and arguments about masks, ventilators, and isolation had completely desensitized him, along with much of the country. At this point, even something as significant as this political sea change in Washington was barely a blip on his radar. “After all, it's not like anything around here will change now that Pelosi is President,” he muttered under his breath.
“Seems unlikely.” Startled, Aaron jerked upright. Mike finished climbing the spiral staircase and joined his brother in front of the television.
“Ooooh,” Mike exclaimed. “Hey look, it’s our Senator. Turn it up.” He dropped onto the couch while Aaron grabbed the remote. They were able to catch most of Senator Giancola’s statement.
“...is just a part of what makes this country so great. We have a strong, vibrant Constitution, and we pride ourselves on a smooth and orderly transfer of power. This is especially important when we are transitioning power between parties. President Pelosi and I are in different parties, and we surely disagree on many things, but I have no doubt that she can be a strong and capable leader for this great nation. My colleagues and I look forward to working with President Pelosi to ensure that we do all that we can for the American people. Citizens across this vast nation should take comfort in the fact that we are doing everything possible to keep you safe, happy, and healthy. If anything, this tragedy should remind us all of the need to remain cautious and take every reasonable precaution with this pandemic. Good night, and God Bless America!”
“That was Senator Caroline Giancola addressing the unprecedented events which have occurred over the last 24 hours…” Aaron turned down the volume once Giancola’s speech ended.
“I’ve always liked her,” Mike said. “Seems like a straight shooter.”
“Seems like a politician to me. And you can’t trust a politician. Ever.” Aaron’s eyes went hollow for a moment, recalling some of the places he’d been deployed to, largely thanks to the whims of idiot politicians.
“That’s fair, I guess. I’ll just say that Giancola’s always done a good job of fighting for more farm subsidies, which help keep pop and I in business each year. Politician or not, I’m all for that.”
“Fair enough,” Aaron agreed.
Whomp-whomp-whomp-whomp-whomp
“What the hell is that noise?” Mike asked. As the brothers stared at each other in confusion, the volume and intensity of the noise continued to grow. “Tornado?”
“It doesn’t sound like a tornado,” Aaron said hesitantly. “It actually kind of sounds like…a Seahawk? What the hell would a Seahawk be doing in the middle of Kansas?” He leaned over the railing and called down to Jenny who was finishing the dishes in the sink. “Do you see anything out there?”
“Nothing out back,” she shouted over the rising noise, quickly drying her hands. “Something is blowing like crazy though. The grass is bent almost completely flat. Tornado?”
The noise reached a crescendo, rattling the windows and drowning out any further attempts at speech. Curious and concerned, Aaron could no longer restrain himself. He dashed past Mike, sped down the spiral staircase, and yanked open the front door, gaping at the deafening sight. “Not a Seahawk, a Blackhawk,” he muttered, taking in the classic Army green helicopter. “Why the fuck is the Army landing a helo in the middle of our front yard?”
As the rotors slowed and the screaming whine of the engines died down, the door to the helicopter slid open and a person in a bright blue biohazard suit ponderously climbed out. The figure approached the house lugging a large black plastic case, stopping six feet or so in front of Aaron. He was surprised to see that the balloon-person was an attractive, though clearly exhausted, woman in rumpled fatigues.
“Captain Amelia Hudson, United States Air Force. Am I speaking with Michael or Aaron Palmer?”
“I’m Aaron Palmer.”
“Thank you, sir. How many other occupants are at this location?”
“Two, my brother Mike and his wife Jenny.”
The Captain made a couple of notations on a piece of paper attached to the black case. “I need to come in and test each of you for the virus.”
“This seems like a lot of trouble and expense just to give us a couple of COVID tests, Captain. What the fuck is actually going on here?”
“I’ll explain more once we’re inside and the testing is done.”
Seeing that there was no changing her mind, Aaron ushered the Captain into the house and directed her to the recently-cleared dining room table. She quickly set up her machine and passed out sterile swabs to the three residents. “Just swipe these along your cheeks a couple of times.”
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Captain Hudson inserted all three swabs into the machine. Before she could begin her explanation, Jenny interrupted. “What exactly is that device you’re using? I don’t recognize it, but that’s definitely not a COVID testing machine. What exactly is going on here?”
“Affirmative, ma’am. This machine doesn’t test for COVID. It tests for DuoHalo, which is a far bigger problem. Especially for you two,” she said grimly, gesturing at Aaron and Mike.
“Explain that Captain,” Aaron said. “We’ve heard a couple of news stories about DuoHalo, but it seems to be a minor thing, especially compared to the COVID pandemic rampaging through the country.”
“That’s the cover story that we have been pushing, but it isn’t accurate, unfortunately. While COVID is deadly, particularly for the elderly and the immunocompromised, DuoHalo is far deadlier, especially for men. COVID is killing around 1 percent of the people who catch it, but DuoHalo is killing 20-30 percent of the women who catch it.”
Only Jenny understood the significance of that mortality rate. “Are you serious? 30 percent? Those are like…smallpox numbers. Are you serious?”
While Jenny had latched onto the numbers the Captain had given, Aaron had focused on something she didn’t provide. “...and the men who catch it?”
“80.” Her haunted eyes and sagging shoulders showed just how many times the Air Force officer had already given people this information.
“80?” Hysteria gave Aaron’s voice a shrill edge.
“80 percent of men who catch this highly transmissible virus will die. It’s particularly lethal for men in the 30 to 45 age range, which includes both of you. At this point, we’ve already lost approximately a million people, and we’re only getting started.”
“A million people?” Mike shrieked. “Are you serious? How could this happen? How are people not talking about this?”
Captain Hudson ignored this interruption, plowing on with her explanation. “People are contagious for more than two weeks before showing symptoms, and then most die within 24 hours of that. And it’s a gruesome 24 hours. A mild cough quickly turns severe, as your lungs begin to break down. By the end, you’re drowning in blood, bleeding from your eyes, with your organs and muscles necrotizing and liquifying.”
All three Palmers shuddered in revulsion at this description. Even Jenny, with her training and experience as a nurse, wasn't immune to the visceral horror that this disease engendered.
Resolve flashed in the Captain’s eyes as she squared her shoulders and continued. “Everyone is tired of isolating themselves and people are starting to get careless and angry. It’s going to be a complete clusterfuck. Pardon my language, ma’am.”
“Sounds like it already is a clusterfuck,” remarked Aaron. “And it’s just gonna get worse.”
Beep-beep-beep, beep-beep-beep, beep-beep-beep
The gaze of all four people were drawn inexorably to the machine chirping in the middle of the table. Captain Hudson’s face relaxed at the sight of three green lights blinking away. “You guys are all clear.”
“Maybe now you can tell us what you’re really doing here,” Aaron said. “I can’t imagine you’re just running around the Kansas countryside telling people that the sky is falling but they’re OK for now. And why the fuck is an Air Force officer being shuttled around in an Army bird?”
“I’m here because President Pelosi has activated Operation Breadbasket. The entire military is involved in our response, which is how I was able to steal several Blackhawks from Fort Riley. We—the Air Force, that is—have developed a radical experimental vaccine for DuoHalo. The vaccine seems to work, so far, but it comes with some…unusual…side-effects. We’ve got a limited supply of the vaccine to date, but the President knows that a stable food supply, more than almost anything, is critical to our survival as a nation. She also knows that farming is an industry dominated by men, and largely older men, who are at high risk. Men are swiftly becoming our scarcest, and probably our most valuable, resource. To address these issues, Operation Breadbasket has been initiated. We are targeting medium-sized farming communities and working to create fully vaccinated bubbles that we can lean on to keep the nation fed.”
“And you’ve settled on Hopewell as one of those communities? Why here, of all places?” Aaron asked.
“Affirmative. Hopewell is an ideal choice for several reasons. We are basing this Operation out of McConnell Air Force Base, so your town is nearby and easily accessible, which is a definite plus. In order for this to succeed, the Pentagon has determined that we need populations between 10,000 and 15,000. That is people enough to sustain significant farming operations and to maintain services and support for the farmers. This level of population will also provide us with enough initial partners to get things going. You also have a small hospital and a reasonable number of medical providers already located in the area. You’ve also had an anomalously low mortality rate for the state, which wasn’t factored into the selection process but has intrigued some of the eggheads out in California.”
Though plausible, something about the Captain’s list of factors didn’t quite sit right with Aaron. “I’m sure that there are several places around the Midwest that would meet those criteria,” he said suspiciously. “Why Hopewell specifically? Why so quickly? Nothing quick ever happens around here.”
Captain Hudson paused for a moment, brow furrowed, trying to determine how much she could say. “It’s classified. Off the record, let’s just say that you, Aaron, have some friends in high places.” She glanced meaningfully around at the elegant trappings of the farmhouse.
“Ah. Henry. Got it.”
“Henry?” asked Mike.
“Henry.” Seeing the blank look on Mike’s face, he continued. “My boss, Henry. My boss the billionaire, Henry. My boss the eccentric but surprisingly well-connected billionaire, Henry. Henry.”
“Oh,” said Mike, chagrinned. “Henry.”
“With that taken care of,” she said, “I’ve got teams going door to door as we speak, testing everyone and briefing them on what our next steps are.”
“And those next steps are…”
“There are several. First, for all married couples who elect to participate in this vaccination program, the wives are being transported to McConnell where they will be given their injections. Second,”
“Wait, what do you mean the wives?” asked Mike. “Why would only Jenny go? Shouldn’t men be getting the vaccine too?”
“I apologize, we’ve gotten ahead of things, a bit,” Captain Hudson said. “It has been a long day. Long several days. I got sidetracked by your questions and didn’t get to address the…unique…issues that come with the vaccine. First, unfortunately, the vaccine cannot be given directly to men. A direct injection appears to be even more dangerous than the virus itself. However, our studies have shown that a vaccinated female can…transmit her immunity to her partner…sexually.”
Mike and Jenny gaped at her, sure that they had misheard. Or that she had misspoken. Their disbelief was too much for Aaron, and he burst out laughing, relief and madness coloring his amusement. “After everything she’s hit us with in the last 10 minutes, this is what blows your minds? Sex?”
Captain Hudson ignored the couple’s incredulity and Aaron’s amusement. “I realize that this is unusual, but we’re seeing approximately 70% immunity for men who are engaged in regular intercourse with a single partner. Which is why we’re prioritizing getting married women vaccinated and linked up as their spouses’ first partner.”
“And what are unmarried men like me doing?” asked Aaron.
“If you opt into the program…”
“Are you kidding? Of course I’m opting into the program. You had me at 80% mortality.”
“We’re in too,” said Jenny, Mike nodding vigorously alongside.
“OK then. We can check that item off the list. Where was I?”
“You were about to tell me how you’re going to handle unmarried men like me.”
“OK yeah, um, Aaron, single men like you will be completing a detailed survey which will be fed into something they’re calling ‘The Oracle’ to find compatible partners for you. Please be thorough and completely truthful with your responses. Nobody will be able to see your data, but our system will be using this information to identify women who we expect to be with you for a long time. Accurate data is essential for making this process work. I cannot emphasize this enough. You absolutely need to be completely honest about your preferences.”
Captain Hudson handed Aaron a printout with survey access instructions and then packed up her equipment. “Fill this out as soon as possible. We need to get your first pairing done quickly so we can get you some protection.”
She turned to Jenny and said, “It’s getting kind of late, but I’d like to take you with me tonight. We can get you briefed on the details of the vaccine and the program and what the next several weeks will be like. Once the briefing is done, we’ll get you vaccinated and keep you under observation for just a bit to make sure that everything is fine. Would that work for you? I'll have you back here tomorrow morning sometime.”
Jenny agreed and swiftly packed a small bag with some comfortable clothes, a battered copy of “Have Totem, Will Travel,” her toothbrush, and a phone charger. While she was packing, Captain Hudson tried to reassure Mike. “Everything is going to be fine. Jenny will be back tomorrow, and you will be getting your first dose of immunity in no time. Get a good night’s sleep. You’re gonna need it.”
“OK. I’m ready to go,” Jenny said, a slight quiver betraying her nervousness.
Mike gave her a deep kiss, hugged her tight, and then let Captain Hudson lead her towards the helicopter. Agitated and grumbling under his breath, Mike headed for bed. Aaron shut off the lights all over the house before climbing into bed, chuckling to himself. He somehow doubted that Mike or Jenny had been listening to the Captain quite as closely as he had. Otherwise, they might have noted that she said that Jenny would be Mike’s “first partner,” not his only partner.