Pandemic Page 98

“Spit it out, Nancy,” Blackmon said. “I heard your good news, now give me the rest.”

Whittaker cleared her throat. “Madam President, while the distribution is going well, there is a growing problem. On multiple websites and in social media, people are broadcasting a message to not take the inoculant.”

Blackmon’s face wrinkled in doubtful confusion. “Is this a religious reaction? I know the Muslim community isn’t thrilled we’re using breweries, but my people are in direct contact with Islamic leaders and we’re overcoming that.”

Whittaker shook her head. She cleared her throat again, giving Murray a moment to wonder who could be so bug-shit crazy they wouldn’t take the inoculant.

“The objections are anchored by the antivaccine crowd and the alternative medicine movement,” she said. “Almost without exception, both groups are using every communication vehicle they have — websites, blogs, email lists, social media — to tell people that this is, quote, a Big Pharma trick. I have some sites to show you.”

Whittaker called up websites on the Situation Room’s main monitor. Murray saw page after page with headlines that painted the inoculation effort in terms of government abuse, a capitalist power grab, grand Illuminati conspiracy, even mind control. Who could be so bug-shit crazy? These people, that’s who.

Blackmon stared blankly.

“People are actually listening to this? These are just fringe movements. How many people are we talking about?”

Whittaker shrugged. “It’s impossible to say at this time.”

Blackmon threw up her hands. “But this doesn’t make any sense! We broadcast video of those brave sailors, the cocooning, that horror show of the triangles. We showed that!”

“The most common reaction is that the videos are fake,” Whittaker said. “Hollywood special effects, CGI … they say all the data is fabricated.”

Blackmon shook her head. Wide-eyed and open-mouthed, she had never looked less presidential.

“But that isn’t even sane,” she said. “What possible motivation could we have for tricking three hundred and thirty million people into drinking the inoculant?”

“To create dependence,” Whittaker said. “That’s the most common claim. Other theories involve nanotech that will let the government target people who oppose official policy, or that the inoculant will let the shadow governments control politicians and the military, or just to make everyone dumber and more docile. All of these are variations on ideas that have been around for years and applied to everything from agriculture to chemtrails to broadcast television. Our urgent message that everyone has to take the inoculant plays right into the conspiracy theorists’ existing structures.”

Blackmon sat quietly for a moment as she thought it over.

She looked at Cheng. “The people who refuse to take the inoculant … what are their chances of contracting the disease?”

Cheng leaned back, stroked his chin. The little fuck was actually milking the moment, pausing for drama’s sake. Murray cursed the misfortune that kept Margaret away.

“We estimate that the infection rate will be around ninety percent for anyone who isn’t immunized,” Cheng said.

Blackmon straightened in her chair. She nodded, accepting the difficult news.

“I see,” she said. “All right, let’s face reality — Doctor Cheng, if some people refuse to take the inoculant, and the infection spreads to these people, won’t they just die off?”

Cheng sat forward, eager. “If only it were that simple, Madam President. This disease doesn’t kill people, it turns them into killers.”

The fat man stood, addressed the room as if he were an actor on a grand stage.

“This denial will create pockets of people susceptible to the disease, true, but keep in mind that even if we had one hundred percent acceptance from the populace, there is no way to inoculate everyone. We’ve seen it time and time again with pending natural disasters, where people don’t get the warning message despite our best communication efforts. If we inoculate, say, ninety percent of the population, ten percent of the population can still become infected — that’s up to thirty-three million Americans behaving like the infected victims we’ve already documented. It would create untold havoc.”

Murray remembered the rampages of Perry Dawsey and Martin Brewbaker. Colonel Charlie Ogden had led a company of converted soldiers into Detroit, cut off all roads, shot down commercial jets, brought that city to its knees. Every infected person became a mass murderer — if millions of people became infected …

Blackmon looked around the room. “Can we force the inoculation on those who won’t take it voluntarily?”

Whittaker nodded. “Legally, yes. Local and state public health organizations have the right to require vaccination via the precedent of Jacobsen versus Massachusetts — sometimes individual freedoms lose out to the greater need — but it’s doubtful we can do that on a national scale. Even if we had every police force working with us, we can’t organize a door-to-door campaign for the entire country.”

Blackmon’s predator gaze swept the room, looking for prey.

“I must not be hearing this right,” she said. “Are all of you telling me that we just have to wait and see if American citizens get infected, then suffer whatever damage they inflict until we can kill them?” She slapped the table. “Unacceptable! I want alternative plans, and I want them in four hours. Cheng, what about Montoya’s hydra strategy?”

Chapter end