The Days and Months We Were First Born- the Unraveling (10 page)

***

The New York area had some fine bridges. The Brooklyn Bridge, The Verrazano, Manhattan, RFK, Williamsburg, George Washington; all were elegant, all were iconic, and all were great places to take a stroll across. But that wasn’t the case for the Lincoln Highway Bridge.

The bridge was basically an elevated highway. It was painted black, with two rectangular, dull designed towers, and rusty, worn looking spans. It was at least seven kilometers long, from Communipaw Avenue in Jersey City, to Ferry Street in Newark. And the pavement was grated with crosshatched metal grooves, which felt awkward with each step.

There was no side path for pedestrians, but
I didn’t
need one. The stream of cars, cargo trucks, buses, and taxis that used to hum through had long disappeared. All that remained of the highway’s previous purpose were the few vehicles that had ran out of charge while crossing one way or the other. When I passed these cars and trucks, I
peeked
inside. And naturally, they were stripped and picked over of anything useful.

The Lincoln Highway Bridge did have one advantage, though. There was a spectacular panoramic view of the metro area.

Behind me and to the northeast was New York. Tia Tower, formerly known as World Trade Center 1, was the tallest building of lower Manhattan.
Farther
north, 15 Penn Plaza and the Empire State Building barely peaked over the towers of Hudson Yards District.

Directly behind me
spread the
western side of Jersey City’s condos, hotels, and office buildings. They loomed large over the neighborhood I had just left. The electronic signs at the top of the buildings used to illuminate company logos and advertisements for kilometers on end.
Now, they were void and black—s
ymbolic of the empty real estate inside.

Directly ahead of me and slightly to the north was Newark, one of the great satellite cities of the world. The neighborhoods were calm and low-lying from my distant view. And Newark’s downtown consisted of modern office buildings—most of them built within the last twenty years. The lustrous glass sidings of the buildings were multicolored, and each tower was impressive with its own unique geometric top: from triangular, to rectangular, to oval. The array of buildings was led by the Blue Talvari, a five-hundred-meter-tall monstrosity that often pierced into the clouds above. Easily, it was the tallest office tower in the country.

To my right and along the bay was Harrison Valley, a strip of land nestled between Newark and Hoboken. The land was dominated by a vast industrial complex. At this complex, workers used to manufacture furniture, process recycled wood, package dairy products, and build synthetic stone.

And right beyond the factories was the regional SkyCharge hub, a cluster of buildings surrounding a sixteen-hundred meter antenna. The antenna, at more than three times the height of the Blue Talvari
,
was easily the tallest structure in the Western Hemisphere.

SkyCharge was the marvel of the 21
st
Century. Humongous satellites in space used to capture and convert solar energy. This energy was then beamed to the hubs below. From the antennas of the hubs, this energy relayed to the receptors of subscribers. And as long as the subscribers’ accounts were in good standing, they would receive an unlimited supply of electricity for their homes, cars, businesses, and personal appliances.

Too big and too important to be a private company, SkyCharge was co-owned and operated by over one hundred nations. Each country appointed members to management and upkeep, and the revenue w
as divided according to usage.
It was an excellent source of income for the participating countries—a tax without being a tax. But now, like the factories to its south, and the other places of business the world over, the hub and system was dormant and without purpose.

Something else grabbed my attention as I walked across that bridge. Below in the bay, I could see bodies floating. There were about twenty in total. They were like bloated mannequins as they bobbed along and sp
un
with the current of murky brown water. Whether the bodies were of jumpers, or whether the bodies were dumped after death, I couldn’t say for sure.

The Battlefield

2:00pm Transcript of Dr. Albert Peacock via
SciDOC-SJ

Dr. Albert Peacock is in front of the camera. He is hunched over. He is sweating. His face is a pale gray. His eyes are surrounded by dark circles. His lips are a purplish blue. And his breathing is labored. In the background, two others are in hazmat suits. From their shape, it is easy to see that they are both female. They are on opposite sides of a metallic cylinder; the cylinder’s height is at least two levels. On one side of the cylinder, a lady is removing a bundle of wires with tongs. The wires are glowing. The lady is very deliberate. On the opposite side, the other lady is observing something on a monitor. This goes on for eight seconds. Then Dr. Peacock looks startled. He looks into the lenses of the camera. In a low and raspy voice, he speaks.

Dr. Peacock:

This is Dr. Albert Peacock. It is now 2pm, September third, the year twenty sixty-eight. My colleagues and I are running out of time. Our building is under siege. And we have learned through radio coverage on Station 37 Transmission B that we are being held accountable for the cancer that has ravaged the human population.

I said it before and I will say it again, my team and I are not affiliated with nor have any knowledge of a Dr. Lin, or the potential devastation that he
may
have brought about. We have tried and failed to relay this message.

All attempts to assure cooperation and understanding from the crowd have been fruitless. They do not believe a word. And we cannot reach the remaining media due to the still-intact government protocols on our communication equipment.

For the past two days now, we have withstood countless attacks from gunfire, explosives, and whatever other means the hostiles can devise. The determination of our attackers only seems to grow stronger. According to the computers on our gunning stations, the number of hostiles has increased to the tens of thousands, with more coming by the hour. Our defense system has kept interior damage to a minimum, but I, along with Dr. Jayla Dawar and Dr. Susan Gates, cannot leave the S.E.E.D. chamber for fear that a random bullet would strike us dead.

The S.E.E.D. chamber is being defended by our brave colleagues. Those colleagues are Dr. Philippe Bertrand at the southwest station, Dr. Steven Jones at the southeast station, Dr. Nigel Nevins at the northwest station, and Dr. Cameron Leshay at the northeast station. Our mobile gunners are Dr. Mark Gunter, Dr. Isam Farziah, and Dr. Marisol Canas.

My entire staff is over exhausted. No one has slept since the fire truck incident of September first, and we ar
e running low on our supply of hydro-c
affeine, the substance that has allowed us to remain on our feet.

Our mission is to hold off the crowd until we can clear the S.E.E.D. device to safe levels. We are less than a day away from accomplishing this. If the procedure is interrupted prematurely, New York City, and potentially an area much larger will be destroyed.

Though my colleagues and I are bein
g held responsible for the pandemic
, we have not been spared from its wrath. Other than Dr. Gates, Dr. Dawar, Dr. Bertrand, and Dr. Jones, we are all in the final stages of the cancer. It does not seem likely that any of us will make it out of here alive, but it is my hope that…

Dr. Peacock is interrupted by a loud alarm. A red warning light floods the chamber. The colleagues behind Peacock pause from their work. Peacock is exhausted, and looks almost relieved to have the break from his report. A computerized voice announces
,
Intruder Alert. Intruder Alert. Break in is imminent. Intruder Alert…
.

Dr. Leshay:

Dr. Peacock, we have a major problem! The hostiles are moving through the connection. They are about to break into the building!

Dr. Peacock:

How many, Dr. Leshay?

Dr. Leshay:

Over three hundred! We don’t have much time. We’re going to have to detonate. If they get through that barrier, then it’s all over!

Dr. Peacock:

Dr. Farziah, we need you to detonate now.

Dr. Farziah:

I’m on it, Dr. Peacock!

***

2:02pm Transcript of Station 37, Transmission B

Terrence Green:

This is Terrence Green, coming to you live from above the battle at York Academy. There is still an occasional shot or two being fired, but the heavy exchange of earlier has subsided. The fighters on the ground aren’t making much progress at all. Every attempt to invade the building has been turned back by the defenders. The defenders have advanced weaponry, far superior to anything they’ve faced from the fighters below. But that hasn’t slowed the determination of the people. Many are still pouring in, taking the place of those who have been slain. I estimate that there are at least sixty-thousand people out here so far. We have Jessie McCarthy on the ground to give us an update…Jessie, are you there?

The sound of the crowd suddenly dominates. There are many people talking. It is hard to make out anything. After a few seconds, Jessie McCarthy’s voice rises above.

Jessie McCarthy:

Hello? Hello? Terrence! Can you hear me? My God, it’s loud here!

Terrence Green:

Yes, Jessie. I can hear you. We all can hear you. You’re live. Can you tell us what’s going on?

Jessie McCarthy:

We have a muddle, Terrence! The defenders in the building are firing on anyone who comes close. As soon as brave men and women storm the building, they are cut down! The militias and gangs are trying to coordinate their efforts, but they’re using domestic class weapons against, what I have to guess is war grade artillery. We’re not sure if those inside were given the weapons by the government or w
hether the weapons were stolen. H
owever they got them, the weapons are more effective…by far!

Every ten minutes, someone inside one of the weapon globes repeats a message. The message states that the hostiles inside are Physicists; that they have no affiliation with Dr. Lin or the virus, that they are disassembling a dangerous bomb, and that the fighters are making a huge mistake!

Terrence Green:

Well, if that’s true, they made the bigger mistake of choosing a Biogenetics building as their place to disassemble such a thing. Is the message reaching the crowd, Jessie? That this may be a case of mistaken identity, and that there may be merit to the bomb threat?

Jessie McCarthy:

The crowd is not having it, Terrence…Virtually everyone I’ve talked to has told me…

There is an explosion. It is thunderous. Jessie’s microphone trembles and whistles for a moment. People scream. Jessie screams. In the distance, a structure is crumbling. The sound is that of a demolition. People are running.

Jessie McCarthy:

Oh my God! Oh my God!

Jessie repeats this over and over as he runs with the crowd. Terrence is yelling frantically to reestablish contact with his correspondent. This goes on for at least one minute.

Terrence Green:

Jessie! Jessie! Are you there, Jessie?! Are you all right?! Please! Say something! Jessie!

Jessie McCarthy:

Yeah….yeah….I’m fine, Terrence! Oh my God, oh my God! Yeah. I’m here…Oh shit! All right…The occupiers have detonated the connection to their building. That’s five levels…blown to smithereens! There is dust and debris everywhere! There must have been people inside. They must have been trying to find a way into the building…they’re all dead. They didn’t stand a chance!

Terrence Green:

You have to get to a safer location, Jessie! What if they detonate the entire campus?

Jessie McCarthy:

Many people are getting that very idea, Terrence. I can see people pouring out of the adjacent buildings as we speak. There are a few inside, still firing from a broken window, but most are heading towards Rockefeller University Hall…Jesus Christ! You should see this! Fighters are bleeding, fighters are missing limbs…it’s an absolute mess out here!

***

4:35pm Transcript of Station 37 Transmission B

There are many voices in the background, and occasionally, there is gunfire as well. There are commands being shouted, there are people screaming in pain from injury, there are sounds of movement as people go back and forth. In the foreground of this, Jessie McCarthy is thanking a man for granting him a quick interview. The man says it is his honor. Next, Jessie tells the man how to place the microphone on his shirt collar. This takes a few seconds. When the man has his microphone in place, the interview begins.

Jessie McCarthy:

This is Jessie McCarthy, coming to you live from the battlegrounds of York Academy. I have one of the leaders of this fight with me today. He was gracious enough to grant me an interview. He is Eric Wu, and he is a part of the…

Eric Wu:

The Last Standers. I am the leader of the Last Standers. We are based in Chelsea.

Jessie McCarthy:

Yes, of course. The Last Standers…Now Mr. Wu, could you give our listeners an idea of what has been going on from your perspective today? Could you give us an insight as to how you and your coalition can actually take the building and win?

Eric Wu:

Well, as you know, Jessie, their weapons are superior. We’ve lost plenty of men out here today. Men I have known for years from my days in the NYPD. And it is heartbreaking. It is hard. But the one thing on our side is numbers. There are more of us, and
they
cannot last forever. If we stay the course, eventually we
will
take those fuckers out!

They have killed good people out here today, Jessie. Good people who I refuse to let die in vain. Those fuckers inside have committed genocide against the human race, and our fight is a righteous fight. A fight for justice. A fight for survival.

Jessie McCarthy:

Well sir, the umm…
fuckers
claim that they are
n’t responsible for the pandemic
. They say they are Physicists, and…

Eric Wu:

Look Jessie. If you are responsible for the death of billions, people have you surrounded, and those people are willing to give their lives to bring you to justice, wouldn’t you deny having
anything to do with the pandemic
yourself? Of course, they’re responsible! Why do they have power when no one else does? Why do they have the advanced weaponry to defend themselves? How do you explain a Biomedics building having war-grade material for God’s sake?
Wake up, Jessie!

Jessie McCarthy:

But Mr. Wu, what if they are telling the truth? Wouldn’t you agree that what they are saying could be plausible? What if they are really diffusing a deadly bomb? What if you and your coalition succeed in taking the building, and by accident, you all detonate this bomb. Is it worth the death of so many if you and your coalition are wrong?

Eric Wu:

Look! You want to know what’s wrong?! It’s wrong that billions of people are dead, all over the world! It’s wrong that brave men and women had to die out here today, at the hands of those
monsters
!

You see that on the other side of the courtyard? I want you to look, Jessie. You see that? Over there are seventy-six of my men alone.
Dead!
We are dealing with evil here, Jessie. And I will not rest until this evil is defeated. This interview is over!

There is a loud pop as Eric Wu throws his microphone to the ground. He storms off, muttering to himself. Jessie McCarthy calls after him.

Jessie McCarthy:

But Mr. Wu! Wait! Wait! We have so much more to discuss…Mr. Wu…ah, fuck it.

***

4:52pm Transcript of Dr. Albert Peacock via
SciDOC-SJ

Dr. Peacock, Dr. Dawar, and Dr. Gates are busy at work. They are standing near the decompression vault, which resembles an oven surrounded by monitors. The ladies are still in their hazmat suits. Dr. Peacock does not bother to take such precautions. Dr. Dawar and Dr. Gates are side by side. Both are spinning something that resembles a steering wheel. Dr. Peacock is standing behind them, monitoring their results. He is barking orders in a weak and raspy voice. There is also the sound of wheezing from the scientists outside the chamber. A few of them are coughing severely. One of the scientists injects a hydro-caffeine shot into his neck.

Dr. Jones:

Come on…come on…I know you’re up to something…

Dr. Nevins:

I know what you mean, Steve. It’s too quiet…they haven’t fired a shot in ten minutes…what the hell are they planning?

Dr. Peacock:

I don’t know what they are planning, but you guys are doing and excellent job. Just keep up….

Dr. Peacock breaks into a severe coughing fit midsentence. His legs give way and he falls to the floor. Dr. Gates and Dr. Dawar stop what they are doing and run to their leader to help.

Dr. Gates: