Adopted Son Page 8

  “Let me start by repeating what the media has already said about this issue, and telling you what we have learned. The scientific community now seems united in saying that Handel’s Syndrome is indeed caused by a virus. You catch it in the same manner as you would a cold or the flu. We’ve isolated the virus. It is also true that this particular virus doesn’t make you sick, in the way that you become sick when you catch the flu or the mumps. This virus scrambles the DNA in a person’s reproductive system. When two people who have been infected conceive a child, that child is born with the scrambled DNA, and has what we have termed Handel’s Syndrome.”

  Hank turned to camera two and the second prompter. “It is also known that once a person has had their system scrambled by the virus, the damage is permanent. That person will almost certainly never be able to conceive a ‘normal’ child again. This is also a known fact. Perhaps some day medical science will come up with a way to unscramble DNA, but under present technology the damage appears to be irreversible.”

  “That is the extent of what is known about Handel’s Syndrome at this time. There are so many rumors floating in the press these days that it is easy to become confused. So, let me tell you what is not true. First of all, there are a lot of people out there saying that the virus is artificial, that it has been engineered for this purpose. This is not true. We are in the process of researching this virus, and our scientists say that it is much too early to make any determination of that sort. As far as they can tell, this virus is simply a product of nature like any other virus. While its appearance is certainly unfortunate, it is no more a manufactured virus than Ebola, Small Pox, HIV or any of the other scourges that man has had to put up with since time immemorial.”

  Back to camera one. “There have also been wild rumors circulating in the press that this virus is somehow extraterrestrial in origin. This rumor started because some unprincipled members of the press speculated that the victims of Handel’s Syndrome have many of the characteristic of so-called ‘gray aliens’ that we’ve all seen at the movies. Now people are even saying that the virus was first found inside of a meteorite. This is preposterous. Nothing could be further from the truth. Our scientists at the various national laboratories assure me that this virus is terrestrial in origin. It comes from good old planet Earth. There is nothing to fear about this.”

  “I’ve also heard rumors that this is some sort of biological weapon developed to destroy certain races. That certainly isn’t true. The virus seems to infect people of every race, creed, and ethnicity in the same way. There are so many statements about this virus that are simply untrue. I’ve heard that the virus is spread through sex, and I’ve heard that it’s airborne, and I’ve heard that it’s spread through drinking water. I’ve even heard that it can somehow transform an adult who is exposed– like someone who’s been bitten by a werewolf. All this speculative and malicious gossip has led to some panic in various places. People are starting to hoard food, to avoid contact with people, to skip out on work. This is not helpful. The plain truth is that we don’t know how the virus is spread yet. I can’t give you any advice on how not to catch it. But I can tell you that we have our best scientists working on the problem as we speak. I am authorizing the National Institutes of Health to place Handel’s Syndrome on their list of highest priority diseases. I have just signed an executive order that increases the funding for HS research ten-fold. I have no doubt that other countries are also increasing their research efforts in this field, and we are prepared to work with the international scientific community on a cure.”

  Time for the big close-up finish. The camera zooms in until his face fills the entire screen. “This is not the time to panic. Yes, this is a potentially serious threat, but it is not beyond the capabilities of the American people to overcome it. We overcame the odds in World War II, we have overcome countless diseases, from the Plague to Small Pox to Tuberculosis. I am calling on you, the American People, to rise to this occasion and help me fight this disease. Panicking will not help, hoarding goods will not help. Trying to eradicate the virus by committing acts of violence against those infected will not help. We need to stay calm, clear, and rational. I know that if we work together; there is nothing that we can’t do. There is no challenge we can’t overcome. Yes, the road ahead may be bumpy, but my friends, we will get through this. Mark my words. We will not only survive, but prosper. Adversity always brings out the best in people, and I’m counting on you to do your part in helping to maintain America’s honor and dignity. Thank you, good night.”

  The red light on the top of the cameras switch off. “Ok, we’re clear,” says the producer.

  Hank looks around the room. “Jimmy, get me the poll numbers as soon as they come in.” He gets up. He reaches up to his forehead and wipes off a bead of sweat. It’s hot under these lights.

  That same night. The Miller farm, outskirts of Tyler, TX

  Lorraine sat blankly as the TV went back to its regularly scheduled programming. She didn’t know what to say, what to think. The morning newspaper still lay on the floor. In bold letters the words, “Is your child from Mars?” stared up at her. Special reports had been on the television all afternoon. The President’s speech was the final capstone. She stared at the TV for what must have been a good ten minutes before she became cognizant enough to realize that Tom wasn’t in the room anymore. She hesitantly got up off their old, gold velvet couch and went looking for him. She found him of course, right where she expected. He was in Jim’s room, in the dark, standing over the crib. She could see in the dim light that both of his hands were clenched tightly. She was worried. Jim was so small, and Tom’s hands were so big. She didn’t know what to say, what to do, how to act. She slowly crept up on Tom and tried to put her hand on his arm. She moved slowly and attempted to be as comforting as possible. Tom just stood oblivious to her touch. She rubbed his strong shoulder and felt the tension deep within the muscles. She didn’t say a word, she didn’t have a word to say.

  All of a sudden, Tom turned and left the room. He walked deliberately through the house, not taking notice of Lorraine. He pushed his way through the hall. The baby stroller was partially blocking the doorway. Tom knocked it over with one swoop and kept going, right out the front door. Lorraine followed him out into the yard. She watched him move purposefully toward his truck. She panicked for a moment when she realized the Tom kept his shotgun in the truck, but only for a moment. He calmly got into the dusty, red pickup, turned on the lights, and drove off into the night.

  Lorraine didn’t know how to take that. This wasn’t like Tom at all. She was worried about him. He never liked to talk about his feelings much, but he didn’t normally just storm off like that. She didn’t know what he would do. Maybe he wouldn’t come back, maybe he would do something bad. Even for herself, Lorraine didn’t know what the future held. What were they going to do with an alien baby? What the hell did the President mean? Why didn’t he address all the facts, like those bits of metal they found? He didn’t give any advice on what to do. Maybe Doctor Thomas would have some ideas. She’d call him first thing in the morning. Maybe the doctors had been given more information. Lorraine was a very practical woman who had a healthy respect for authority. She knew that whatever was going on was beyond her, and she knew that someone would have a plan. The government always has a plan for things like this. Nothing really bad is allowed to happen. All she needed to do was to stay calm and wait until someone told her what to do.

  She stood out on porch in the cool Texas night, watching the taillights of Tom’s pickup get smaller and smaller as he drove down the long, straight country road that connected their home with the rest of the world. She bundled the neck of her robe close up to her throat to keep out the chill. Things were changing. She could feel it even out here. Today wasn’t a typical day, everything was going to be different from now on.

  It was quiet out here in the country. Even the almost constant wind that blew across the fields made no sound. A phone rang.
“That must be Joyce,” thought Lorraine. She must have been watching the TV too.

  A Senate Hearing Chamber. Five days after the President’s announcement.

  “Would you state your name for the record?”

  “Raymond Montgomery Johnston”

  “And also, for the record, could you please state your employer?”

  “I work for the Defense Intelligence Agency Senator, although most public records will show that I work for the State Department.”

  The lights were bright and hot in the Senate chamber. The twelve senators that make up the Intelligence Committee sat on the podium, above the crowd. Ray had to look up to see them. He was sitting at a small table, giving testimony. He was worried because the hot lights were making him sweat a little bit. Sweat is an indication of deception. This was the beginning of his third day of testimony. They had already grilled him on the specifics of the virus, on Project Beachcomber, on his involvement in the ‘cover up’ of information that supposedly had occurred. The press reports said that today’s testimony would focus on why Ray decided to take the rather drastic actions that he had taken, and the security implications. Ray had not been looking forward to answering those questions, and hadn’t gotten much sleep the night before. Still, he looked good in his new, crisp suit. His lawyer suggested that he not be seen in front of a national audience in the same ratty polyester outfits that he had been wearing for the past ten years, so he treated himself. It was important that he was believable, for the sake of the world.

  The Intelligence Committee meetings were usually held behind closed doors. They are the one Senate committee that isn’t usually open to the public. But this time was different. A stir had been created. The government had been accused of hiding important health concerns from the American people. After the Gulf War Syndrome fiasco, those who want to be reelected shudder at the thought of being accused of secretiveness and conspiracy when it came to health issues.

  Senator Blaines, the head of the Intelligence Committee continued his questioning.

  “Mr. Johnston, I have to ask again, do you understand why you are here?”

  “For telling the truth.” Several claps came from the gallery. A lot of the people that showed up for this hearing were involved in some way with HS. A few were researchers, some were consultants trying to get a piece of an appropriation, but the majority were parents who had an HS child. The claps comforted Ray as much as they infuriated Blaines. They were an indication of the popular sentiment towards Johnston. Ray felt strange receiving accolades. He wasn’t used to people supporting him. The Senator banged his gavel twice.

  “Mr. Johnston, you are here because you chose to reveal sensitive, compartmented government information to a group of foreigners. Now, did you or did you not sign a secrecy agreement when you joined the DIA?” Ray leaned in to the microphone to speak, but the Senator didn’t wait for an answer. “We are here today to examine the implications of this breach of security for the American people.”

  Senator Walker raised his hand. “The chair recognizes the junior senator from Kansas,” said Blaines.

  “Senator Blaines, I can’t believe that you would question the motives of man like Ray Johnston. Here is a man who worked...” Senator Walker paused a seconds while he flipped through his dossier, “twenty-one years for the intelligence community without a single blemish on his record. He did what he was told to do because he believed it to be in the best interest of the people of these United States. He attempted to break this story through normal channels, but he was rebuffed. So, he did the only thing that he could do. Senator, this man here is a real American. He’s the kind of person that we need more of in this country. Begging your pardon sir, but the old way of bureaucracy and rigidity are going the way of the dinosaur. It’s a mode of thinking that has hurt us in the past and will hurt us again in the future if we allow it. Whatever this virus is, we need to stop it and stop it quickly. Waiting around for vital information to get cleared for release is a bad strategy. Mr. Johnston here has given us months, probably years, more warning than we would have had if you were running Project Beachcomber Senator. I believe that Ray Johnston’s actions may have saved the entire human race. How dare you accuse him of breaching his secrecy agreement? Hell, we should give him a medal!”

  With that, a roar erupted in the crowd. Many of the people in the back began clapping and shouting at Senator Walker’s remarks. Some even stood up. Senator Blaines banged his gavel, “Order, Order,” he said, but to no avail, the people had spoken. Ray concentrated on suppressing his smile. By the time that Blaines had gotten the crowd calmed down enough to continue the testimony, Ray knew that his actions would be vindicated. Although he was no longer a company man, he still had the best interests of the American people in his heart. He knew that his actions in Geneva two weeks ago would unite the world against this threat. Part of him, only a small part mind you, was beginning to believe Senator Walker’s grandiose statement that he, Ray Johnston, had single-handedly saved the human race.

  The night of the President’s announcement. A lonely road outside of Tyler, TX

  Tom Miller is driving down a long, straight country road. The old, red pickup rattles and groans as he presses the accelerator. The truck wasn’t built for going fast like this. It rattled to the point where you would believe that it would fall to pieces any second now. Tom was used to it of course, and so he didn’t even notice. The night was dark. There was almost a new moon, and the sky was a flat black. You could really see the stars out here in the country, more points of light than those who have grown up in the city would believe. Tom was also used to the stars though, and he noticed them less than the rattling of the old truck. The radio was playing. There weren’t many stations out here, and even less if you didn’t like country or oldies. “...I fell into a burning ring of fire....” Tom wasn’t listening to the radio. He didn’t even really know that it was on. He was concentrated on his thoughts. “...I went down, down, down, and the flames went higher...”

  “An alien.” That’s all that was going on in Tom’s mind. “An alien.” There wasn’t a lot more to say was there? It was all explained, and despite the President’s promises and explanations, he knew what was going on. Tom wasn’t a scientific man, but he was bright enough to put together logical facts. In his mind, all the pieces had fallen into place. Some aliens somewhere had decided to take over the planet, and use our women as surrogate wombs for their next generation of invaders. He was a jumble of thoughts. It was so hard to believe wasn’t it? If it hadn’t come directly from the President, in a national news conference, he wouldn’t have bought a word of it. It was too weird, too strange. This sort of stuff didn’t happen in real life. It was too much to take.

  Those damn aliens, how could they do this? How could they treat his wife like that, treat him like that? He felt dirty and violated. For the last year he had wracked his brain with guilt because somehow he was deficient, somehow his bad genes had ruined his son. But it wasn’t him after all was it? It had been some sort of trick, some sort of attack. Like those cuckoo birds that hid their eggs in other birds’ nests, expecting them to sacrifice their legitimate children feeding this intruder. What was he supposed to do about his son? “My son,” Tom thought, “it isn’t my son at all, it’s some parasite, some invader. I don’t have a son.” How dare those aliens try to trick him into raising their progeny. How dare they trick him into working his hands raw in the fields to earn money to feed the little monster. How dare they trick him into loving the little beast. Yes, he had loved little James. He didn’t want to at first, but he did. He had dealt with all those feelings of failure and revulsion. He had dealt with all those feelings of inadequacy in producing a deformed baby. All this time he had been thinking that it had been his fault, that he had somehow been to blame for whatever accident had caused James’ HS. But now, only after he had spent countless nights agonizing over what went wrong, and trying to find the courage to deal with the problems and be a good father b
ecause James needed him, only now does he find out that it’s all a big scam. A big joke at his expense.

  He drove on through the night down the straight country road. Past the farms that were filling with crops, past the sleeping longhorns and barbed wire fences. He didn’t know where he was going at first, he just knew he needed to get out of there. He needed to remove himself from the situation and think things out. He didn’t really know what he was going to do. He couldn’t go to his friends. He knew them; they’d accuse him of being some sort of traitor to the human race for harboring that little freak for so long. He couldn’t go to the authorities; what would they do? He wanted to drive it back to the hospital and drop it off, ‘Return to Sender;’ but that didn’t seem to be a possibility. He found himself heading south, unconsciously driving towards his parents’ farm. It was only when he was approaching the exit on the highway did he realize that’s where he had been headed all along. “Dad will know what to say,” thought Tom. Tom’s father had been a farmer for so long now. He was in his sixties and he still did all the work out there. Tom’s Mom had died a few years ago, and Tom had asked his father to move up to Tyler, but he refused. He was an independent man, he was a strong and stubborn, he was a wise man. If anyone knew what to do it would be Dad. As Tom drove up the driveway that led to the farmhouse, he could see the light was on in the kitchen. It was late and Dad was usually asleep by this time, but he was up. Tom instinctively knew that this was a subtle invitation. Maybe he saw the President’s speech, maybe Lorraine had called him after Tom had left so abruptly, but however he knew, he knew that he would be needed that night. Tom was immediately uplifted by that kitchen light.