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Authors: Michael Crichton
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coordinates around population centers and other important areas.
The second map has been weighted to account for wind and population factors, and is consequently distorted.
The third map is a computer projection of the effects of wind and population in a specific “scenario.”
None of these output maps is from the Wildfire Project. They are similar, but they represent output from a CBW scenario, not the actual Wildfire work.
( courtesy General Autonomics Corporation )
Discussion then turned to the time course of death. Both men had heard the tape from the van; they agreed that everyone at Piedmont seemed to have died quite suddenly.
“Even if you slit a man’s throat with a razor,” Burton said, “you won’t get death that rapidly. Cutting both carotids and jugulars still allows ten to forty seconds before unconsciousness, and nearly a minute before death.”
“At Piedmont, it seems to have occurred in a second or two.”
Burton shrugged. “Trauma,” he suggested. “A blow to the head.”
“Yes. Or a nerve gas.”
“Certainly possible.”
“It’s that, or something very much like it,” Stone said. “If it was an enzymatic block of some kind—like arsenic or strychnine—we’d expect fifteen or thirty seconds, perhaps longer. But a block of nervous transmission, or a block of the neuromuscular junction, or cortical poisoning—that could be very swift. It could be instantaneous.”
“If it is a fast-acting gas,” Burton said, “it must have high diffusibility across the lungs—”
“Or the skin,” Stone said. “Mucous membranes, anything. Any porous surface.”
Burton touched the plastic of his suit. “If this gas is so highly diffusible …”
Stone gave a slight smile. “We’ll find out, soon enough.”
Over the intercom, the helicopter pilot said, “Piedmont approaching, gentlemen. Please advise.”
Stone said, “Circle once and give us a look at it.”
The helicopter banked steeply. The two men looked out and saw the town below them. The buzzards had landed during the night, and were thickly clustered around the bodies.
“I was afraid of that,” Stone said.
“They may represent a vector for infectious spread,” Burton said. “Eat the meat of infected people, and carry the organisms away with them.”
Stone nodded, staring out the window.
“What do we do?”
“Gas them,” Stone said. He flicked on the intercom to the pilot. “Have you got the canisters?”
“Yes sir.”
“Circle again, and blanket the town.”
“Yes sir.”
The helicopter tilted, and swung back. Soon the two men could not see the ground for the clouds of pale-blue gas.
“What is it?”
“Chlorazine,” Stone said. “Highly effective, in low concentrations, on aviary metabolism. Birds have a high metabolic rate. They are creatures that consist of little more than feathers and muscle; their heartbeats are usually about one-twenty, and many species eat more than their own weight every day.”
“The gas is an uncoupler?”
“Yes. It’ll hit them hard.”
The helicopter banked away, then hovered. The gas slowly cleared in the gentle wind, moving off to the south. Soon they could see the ground again. Hundreds of birds lay there; a few flapped their wings spastically, but most were already dead.
Stone frowned as he watched. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, he knew he had forgotten something, or ignored something. Some fact, some vital clue, that the birds provided and he must not overlook.
Over the intercom, the pilot said, “Your orders, sir?”
“Go to the center of the main street,” Stone said, “and drop the rope ladder. You are to remain twenty feet above ground. Do not put down. Is that clear?”
“Yes sir.”
“When we have climbed down, you are to lift off to an altitude of five hundred feet.”
“Yes sir.”
“Return when we signal you.”
“Yes sir.”
“And should anything happen to us—”
“I proceed directly to Wildfire,” the pilot said, his
The second map has been weighted to account for wind and population factors, and is consequently distorted.
The third map is a computer projection of the effects of wind and population in a specific “scenario.”
None of these output maps is from the Wildfire Project. They are similar, but they represent output from a CBW scenario, not the actual Wildfire work.
( courtesy General Autonomics Corporation )
Discussion then turned to the time course of death. Both men had heard the tape from the van; they agreed that everyone at Piedmont seemed to have died quite suddenly.
“Even if you slit a man’s throat with a razor,” Burton said, “you won’t get death that rapidly. Cutting both carotids and jugulars still allows ten to forty seconds before unconsciousness, and nearly a minute before death.”
“At Piedmont, it seems to have occurred in a second or two.”
Burton shrugged. “Trauma,” he suggested. “A blow to the head.”
“Yes. Or a nerve gas.”
“Certainly possible.”
“It’s that, or something very much like it,” Stone said. “If it was an enzymatic block of some kind—like arsenic or strychnine—we’d expect fifteen or thirty seconds, perhaps longer. But a block of nervous transmission, or a block of the neuromuscular junction, or cortical poisoning—that could be very swift. It could be instantaneous.”
“If it is a fast-acting gas,” Burton said, “it must have high diffusibility across the lungs—”
“Or the skin,” Stone said. “Mucous membranes, anything. Any porous surface.”
Burton touched the plastic of his suit. “If this gas is so highly diffusible …”
Stone gave a slight smile. “We’ll find out, soon enough.”
Over the intercom, the helicopter pilot said, “Piedmont approaching, gentlemen. Please advise.”
Stone said, “Circle once and give us a look at it.”
The helicopter banked steeply. The two men looked out and saw the town below them. The buzzards had landed during the night, and were thickly clustered around the bodies.
“I was afraid of that,” Stone said.
“They may represent a vector for infectious spread,” Burton said. “Eat the meat of infected people, and carry the organisms away with them.”
Stone nodded, staring out the window.
“What do we do?”
“Gas them,” Stone said. He flicked on the intercom to the pilot. “Have you got the canisters?”
“Yes sir.”
“Circle again, and blanket the town.”
“Yes sir.”
The helicopter tilted, and swung back. Soon the two men could not see the ground for the clouds of pale-blue gas.
“What is it?”
“Chlorazine,” Stone said. “Highly effective, in low concentrations, on aviary metabolism. Birds have a high metabolic rate. They are creatures that consist of little more than feathers and muscle; their heartbeats are usually about one-twenty, and many species eat more than their own weight every day.”
“The gas is an uncoupler?”
“Yes. It’ll hit them hard.”
The helicopter banked away, then hovered. The gas slowly cleared in the gentle wind, moving off to the south. Soon they could see the ground again. Hundreds of birds lay there; a few flapped their wings spastically, but most were already dead.
Stone frowned as he watched. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, he knew he had forgotten something, or ignored something. Some fact, some vital clue, that the birds provided and he must not overlook.
Over the intercom, the pilot said, “Your orders, sir?”
“Go to the center of the main street,” Stone said, “and drop the rope ladder. You are to remain twenty feet above ground. Do not put down. Is that clear?”
“Yes sir.”
“When we have climbed down, you are to lift off to an altitude of five hundred feet.”
“Yes sir.”
“Return when we signal you.”
“Yes sir.”
“And should anything happen to us—”
“I proceed directly to Wildfire,” the pilot said, his
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