Read Online Three Days in April by Edward Ashton - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Edward Ashton
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With twelve percent survivors?â
âBest estimate is that if this breaks out, a fifty percent death rate would be sufficient for a national soft kill.â
âWe donât even know that this is contagious.â
âWe donât know that itâs not.â
Fenrir:
Angry Irish Inch:
Argyle Dragon:
Hayley 9000:
Sir Munchalot:
I blink my windows closed, and start down the stairs.
A nders looks up when I step into the room. Heâs on the sofa with Terry, arms around her shoulders. Her face is buried in his chest. Huh. Would not have called that.
âWell?â he says.
âPretty grim,â I reply, and drop into a recliner. âSurvivorship is under fifteen percent, mostly kids.â
Terry looks up at that. Her face is still screwed up in a half sob, which when you throw in the brow ridge and the gob of snot coming out of her left nostril, is pretty much a horror show in and of itself.
âSurvivors?â Terry says. âThe wallscreen said there were no survivors.â
I shrug.
âWell, Iâm guessing thatâll be true pretty soon. Sounds like theyâre planning on a burn-Âdown.â
She wipes her nose with her arm, which just smears things around. I toss her a screen rag from the cargo slot in the reclinerâs arm. She catches it, wipes down her face and arm, and winds up to throw it back. I hold up one hand.
âKeep it,â I say. âPlease.â
She half smiles her thanks.
âI donât understand,â she says. âWhatâs a burn-Âdown?â
She looks weirdly hopeful now. Maybe âburnâ didnât mean what it does now, before she got frozen in a glacier or whatever.
âIâm not exactly sure,â I say. I glance over at Anders. Heâs glaring at me for some reason. âI guess they could use a nuke, but considering weâre basically downwind, I hope not. More likely an FAE.â
âThatâs enough,â says Anders. His head looks like itâs about to explode.
âAn FAE?â Terry says.
âRight,â I say. âFuel-Âair explosive. The poor-Âmanâs nuke. Most of the boom, with none of the fallout.â
âShut up,â says Anders.
âYou said there were survivors,â says Terry. âThey wouldnât do that if there were Âpeople still alive in there, would they?â
â Au contraire âÂâ
âI said shut up,â Anders growls.
âNo, Anders,â says Terry. âYou shut up. Iâm not your fucking damsel in distress. I want to hear what he has to say.â
Iâm about to go on, but just then some administration tool comes on the wallscreen and starts talking about sterilization. We all listen to his spiel in silence.
âYou see?â I say when heâs done, and they cut back to the studio mannequin. âBurn-Âdown. Theyâre gonna turn that entire place into a smoking hole in the ground. Only way to guarantee containment.â
Terryâs crying again.
âMy sister is in there,â she sobs.
I shake my head.
âProbably not. The estimate I heard, which came from an unnamed but reliable source, was twelve percent survivors with eighty percent of those, children. That puts the adult survival rate at two-Âpoint-Âfour percent.â
I stop and think for a minute.
âWait. No, it doesnât. Thatâs not factoring in the preexisting demographics. Say kids under 18 make up thirty percent of the original population. If your overall survival is twelve percent, and eighty percent of those are children, that makes the survival rate for children . . . thirty percent . . . and for adults about four-Âpoint-Âthree.â
That gets us
âBest estimate is that if this breaks out, a fifty percent death rate would be sufficient for a national soft kill.â
âWe donât even know that this is contagious.â
âWe donât know that itâs not.â
Fenrir:
Angry Irish Inch:
Argyle Dragon:
Hayley 9000:
Sir Munchalot:
I blink my windows closed, and start down the stairs.
A nders looks up when I step into the room. Heâs on the sofa with Terry, arms around her shoulders. Her face is buried in his chest. Huh. Would not have called that.
âWell?â he says.
âPretty grim,â I reply, and drop into a recliner. âSurvivorship is under fifteen percent, mostly kids.â
Terry looks up at that. Her face is still screwed up in a half sob, which when you throw in the brow ridge and the gob of snot coming out of her left nostril, is pretty much a horror show in and of itself.
âSurvivors?â Terry says. âThe wallscreen said there were no survivors.â
I shrug.
âWell, Iâm guessing thatâll be true pretty soon. Sounds like theyâre planning on a burn-Âdown.â
She wipes her nose with her arm, which just smears things around. I toss her a screen rag from the cargo slot in the reclinerâs arm. She catches it, wipes down her face and arm, and winds up to throw it back. I hold up one hand.
âKeep it,â I say. âPlease.â
She half smiles her thanks.
âI donât understand,â she says. âWhatâs a burn-Âdown?â
She looks weirdly hopeful now. Maybe âburnâ didnât mean what it does now, before she got frozen in a glacier or whatever.
âIâm not exactly sure,â I say. I glance over at Anders. Heâs glaring at me for some reason. âI guess they could use a nuke, but considering weâre basically downwind, I hope not. More likely an FAE.â
âThatâs enough,â says Anders. His head looks like itâs about to explode.
âAn FAE?â Terry says.
âRight,â I say. âFuel-Âair explosive. The poor-Âmanâs nuke. Most of the boom, with none of the fallout.â
âShut up,â says Anders.
âYou said there were survivors,â says Terry. âThey wouldnât do that if there were Âpeople still alive in there, would they?â
â Au contraire âÂâ
âI said shut up,â Anders growls.
âNo, Anders,â says Terry. âYou shut up. Iâm not your fucking damsel in distress. I want to hear what he has to say.â
Iâm about to go on, but just then some administration tool comes on the wallscreen and starts talking about sterilization. We all listen to his spiel in silence.
âYou see?â I say when heâs done, and they cut back to the studio mannequin. âBurn-Âdown. Theyâre gonna turn that entire place into a smoking hole in the ground. Only way to guarantee containment.â
Terryâs crying again.
âMy sister is in there,â she sobs.
I shake my head.
âProbably not. The estimate I heard, which came from an unnamed but reliable source, was twelve percent survivors with eighty percent of those, children. That puts the adult survival rate at two-Âpoint-Âfour percent.â
I stop and think for a minute.
âWait. No, it doesnât. Thatâs not factoring in the preexisting demographics. Say kids under 18 make up thirty percent of the original population. If your overall survival is twelve percent, and eighty percent of those are children, that makes the survival rate for children . . . thirty percent . . . and for adults about four-Âpoint-Âthree.â
That gets us
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