The boy had never known his grandfather. He was only a story told to him by his mother. His grandfather's work involved researching emerging diseases and epidemics and required constant travel. Much of that travel was to other countries to work with local governments and health officials. He helped them battle new epidemics or outbreaks of disease. His assignments sometimes lasted for years.
The boy's mother kept in touch through phone calls and emails. But a trip north to see him, when he was home, was not an option with so little money left after paying the bills. She had last seen her father just before the boy's birth. Now, with his death, she felt it was time to tell her son the story of that last visit.
Before the boy was born, she told her son, the old man had traveled to New Orleans from Connecticut to see his daughter. He came to support her, since the boy's father had disappeared once he found out she was pregnant. The boy's grandfather had urged her to come live with him, so he could help her raise the boy. But his mother was too much like her father, fiercely independent, and chose to raise her child alone in New Orleans, where she worked as an emergency room nurse.
Then there was the second reason for his visit, she told the boy. He carried with him a serum. The serum was a prototype, an early version of a vaccine to counteract the effects of a deadly virus. The virus originated in one of the countries he had visited. His company secretly brought back samples of the virus to experiment with and develop an antidote. Her father did not name the virus because it was so new it had not been given one. What he did say was it was a deadlier variation of an older virus belonging to the Filovirus family known as Ebola. This version had mutated, resulting in a more lethal strain. It worked by destroying human white blood cells. Once that happened, a person's body lost the ability to function and would shut down, killing itself. What was worse, the incubation period was only three days, making it extremely fast and difficult to contain. His job was to develop the serum that would counteract its destructiveness.
The boy's mother had been against the serum being put into her bloodstream because she was pregnant. She only gave in after her father impressed upon her the Agency's ultimate plan for the virus. It was to be used for population control, first to be tested somewhere in the United States. If it proved effective, then it would be sold and released in designated countries across the globe through a coordinated effort at the international level.
Her father put the serum into his own body first, right there in her kitchen, to show her it was safe.
"What about my child?" she had asked, still reluctant. "How do I know it's safe for my unborn child?"
"The serum travels through your bloodstream, directly countering the virus, should you be exposed," he said. "It was made to be given once. The antibodies produced in your blood will also be in your child's."
Still uncertain, she gave in. She trusted her father most, even with her life. He injected her with the serum.
"Speak of this to no one," he said as he deftly wiped the needle and replaced it in its carrying case. He did not throw the needle away. "Promise you will never speak of this. If my superiors find out I took this prototype from the lab," his voice stopped. He did not finish the sentence.
She promised him.
With the serum in her body, his story had still been hard for her to believe. A governmentA, in league with private venture companies, had developed a deadly virus with plans to someday release it upon the U.S. population? For population control? That was too far out. After all, life for her was working at the ER of the West Side Regional Hospital in New Orleans. Paying bills. Working towards a comfortable life for her and her unborn child. Real, everyday life, as far as she was concerned.
Yet, her father stressed in his no-nonsense way, the overpopulation of the planet was real. He agreed that releasing a deadly airborne virus to manage it was murder, but he could not stop that now.
Like most of the other scientists working in the labs, he had not known the true purpose of his work until it was completed. Even then, information was hard to uncover because all the scientists were closely monitored by the Agency. Even among fellow scientists, there was to be no cooperation or comparing of notes. Her father did not say under what threat the Agency enforced their secrecy policy.
As for the serum, it was not meant for the general population. It was for those in the agency her father worked for and other unknown high-ranking officials. In their grand plan, he said, these people would be the ones to manage the survivors in the general population and others who might be spared exposure to the virus.
"When will they release it?" his daughter asked.
"I don't know," he answered. "It could be years from now. More testing has to be done. I wanted you to have this serum in case there is no other chance to give it to you. Even as a prototype, I'm hoping it will work."
"You mean you're not sure about it?"
"No. But, honey, it's the only thing developed to counter the virus."
She fell silent, then looked like she had more questions.
"The less you know, the safer you are," he said cutting her off. "Do not speak of this to anyone."
Twelve years later, this man was dead. The boy's mother grieved, for her father's passing and for the boy who never got to know him.