“Okay, time to suit up,” said Tad, as he showed Marissa how to start working her way into the bulky garment. The process was complicated, particularly getting her head inside the closed hood. As she looked out through the clear plastic face mask, it fogged immediately.
Tad told her to attach her air hose, and instantly Marissa felt the fresh air cool her body and clear the face piece. Tad zipped up the front of her suit and with practiced moves, climbed into his own. He inflated his suit, then detached his air hose, and carrying it in his hand, moved down to the far door. Marissa did the same. She had to waddle to walk.
To the right of the door was a panel. “Interior lights for the lab,” explained Tad as he threw the switches. His voice was muffled by the suits; it was difficult for her to understand, especially with the hiss of the incoming air in the background. They went through another airtight door, which Tad closed behind them.
The next room was half again smaller than the first two, with walls and piping all covered with a white chalky substance. The floor was covered with a plastic grate.
They attached their air hoses for a moment. Then they moved through a final door into the lab itself. Marissa followed close behind Tad, moving her air hose and connecting it where he did.
Marissa was confronted by a large rectangular room with a central island of lab benches surmounted by protective exhaust hoods. The
walls were lined with all sorts of equipment-centrifuges, incubators, various microscopes, computer terminals, and a host of things Marissa did not recognize. To the left there was also a bolted insulated door.
Tad took Marissa directly to one of the incubators and opened up the glass doors. The tissue culture tubes were fitted into a slowly revolving tray. Tad lifted out one and handed it to Marissa. “Here’s your Ebola,” he said.
In addition to the small amount of fluid the tube contained, it was coated (on one side) with a thin film-a layer of living cells infected with the virus. Inside the cells, the virus was forcing its own replication. As innocent as the contents looked, Marissa understood that there was probably enough infectious virus to kill everyone in Atlanta, perhaps the United States. Marissa shuddered, gripping the glass tube more tightly.
Taking the tube, Tad walked over to one of the microscopes. He positioned the airtight specimen, adjusted the focus, then stepped back so Marissa could look.
“See those darkened clumps in the cytoplasm?” he asked.
Marissa nodded. Even through the plastic face mask, it was easy to see the inclusion bodies Tad described, as well as the irregular cell nuclei.
“That’s the first sign of infestation,” said Tad. “I just planted these cultures. That virus is unbelievably potent.”
After Marissa straightened up from the microscope, Tad returned the tube to the incubator. Then he began to explain his complicated research, pointing out some of the sophisticated equipment he was using and detailing his various experiments. Marissa had trouble concentrating. She hadn’t come to the lab that night to discuss Tad’s work, but she couldn’t tell him that.
Finally he led her down a passageway to a maze of animal cages that reached almost to the ceiling. There were monkeys, rabbits, guinea pigs, rats and mice. Marissa could see hundreds of eyes staring at her: some listless, some with fevered hatred. In a far section of the room, Tad pulled out a tray of what he called Swiss ice mice. He was going to show them to Marissa, but he stopped. “My word!” he said. “I just inoculated these guys this afternoon, and most have already died.” He looked at Marissa. “Your Ebola is really deadly-as bad as the Zaire ’76 strain.”
Marissa reluctantly glanced in at the dead mice. “Is there some way to compare the various strains?”
“Absolutely,” said Tad, removing the dead mice. They went back
to the main lab where Tad searched for a tray for the tiny corpses. He spoke while he moved, responding to Marissa’s question. She found it hard to understand him when he wasn’t standing directly in front of her. The plastic suit gave his voice a hollow quality, like Darth Vader’s. “Now that I’ve started to characterize your Ebola,” he said, “it will be easy to compare it with the previous strains. In fact I’ve begun with these mice, but the results will have to wait for a statistical evaluation.”