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Under the Weather
Chapter 2: You've Got to Be Kidding
Approaching the abandoned farmhouse slowly, Hogan was suddenly grabbed from behind, hearing the unmistakable sound of rifles being cocked. Still trying to catch his breath, he swallowed loudly, feeling the arm around his neck tighten. From his left he heard a voice that although lowered to a rough whisper, still sounded familiar. It said in German, "Wagner disliked schnitzel and sour kraut." Immediately Hogan recognized the code phrase from the transmission. In his tired and stressed out mind he search for the correct response. Sweat poured down his back despite the freezing winds. Impatiently the arm around his neck tightened again.
Finally, Hogan croaked out between gritted teeth, "But the big man is said to have enjoyed strudel." With that stupid phrase said, the arm loosened and released it's strangle hold.
Pissed off at his man-handling, tired and cold, Hogan pulled away quickly and turned around with glaring eyes. Expecting to see some stranger representing the resistance, what he saw instead was the very familiar face of his old friend David Samuel Cohen.
"Sam?" It couldn't be.
"Hey, Rob. Your German sounds a lot better than it did in high school. Of course, you were always more interested in the Kempler twins than in the books." His old pal Sam teased, shaking his hand and patting his back.
Instantly, Hogan's blood went from boiling to the comfortable warmth that only comes with fond memories.
"Yeah … well, it turns out the girls were pretty good German tutors. But you would have found that out yourself, if you weren't so afraid of girls." Hogan smiled.
"Well, those girls were scary!"
The two men laughed as they made their way inside to somewhat better conditions. Not much better, but better none the less. Realizing that they were in an abandoned farmhouse, deep within Germany and not relaxing at the local soda shop in Bridgeport, Connecticut, Hogan suddenly became serious.
"Okay, Sam. What the hell are you doing here? Last I saw you, you went off to some fancy college in California. UCLA wasn't it?"
"Stanford, actually. We've got a better football team …"
"Yeah, whatever. That still doesn't explain what you're doing here. This isn't exactly the place for a bookworm."
Sam smiled at the old nickname. Rob always called him that in jest but with a lot of affection. "Well, a lot has happened since then and I'd love to sit down and tell you all about my sordid life, but right now, Rob, we've got more important things to discuss."
Hogan agreed. "Shoot …" he stated, prompting Sam to start.
"Well, first off, I'm now a Major General, recently re-assigned from the pentagon to the Allied High Command, Medical Division."
Soaking this new information in, Hogan was beginning to see the importance of whatever this mission was. It was highly unusual for a general to personally participate in a covert operation, especially this far within enemy lines. And Sam was a scientist, a doctor. What would a doctor be doing out in the field? Categorizing this information in his head, he took a few minutes to offer overdue congratulations to his friend.
Sam accepting it then asked Hogan if he had heard of the other internment camps of the Third Reich. The look that suddenly took over Hogan's face darkened. "Yeah, I've heard of them. Dachau, Auschwitz …" his voice drifted off. "So, they're true, huh?"
Sadly, Sam confirmed their horrible existence and their sick purpose.
"And, I guess there's a correlation between these camps and you?" Hogan asked remembering Sam's Jewish background, but not yet understanding the connection.
"Sort of." Sam continued. "But the real reason I'm here though is that this mission is somewhat "unusual", personally important and very very risky … and I didn't want to relay this assignment to you via a third party. You needed to hear it directly from me, as a friend."
'Hmmm,' Hogan thought. 'Where's this going?' "Okay, what gives?"
"Germany has developed a new weapon in chemical warfare. A virus. A simple one really. But one that is very deadly, simple to make, easy to deliver, quick in its progression and exceptionally effective." Leaning forward, Sam looked Hogan straight in the eye. "It was developed, tested and perfected by doctors – and I use that term loosely – on the abundantly ready subjects found in those camps – those camps that supposedly don't exist." Sam paused, his eyes drifting off for a second. Hogan, too, looked away as he began processing the implications of that statement.
"What does the virus do?" Hogan asked.
"It's delivered as bacteria cultures, simply spread on food; with only a miniscule amount needed. Once the bacteria are ingested, it acts quickly, with the recipient developing symptoms similar to pneumonia and meningitis. Within hours, the victims develop severe headaches, extreme nausea, stomach cramps and sensitivity to light. A few hours more and they'll experience sharp, stabbing chest pains and a high fever with chills. A build up of fluid in the lungs will occur quickly. If the fever doesn't get 'em, as it most definitely will with small children and the elderly, the victims will eventually drown in their own fluids. According to the studies done, the test subjects who were infected died extremely painful deaths within one to two days of infection. The virus was 100% effective. Not one subject survived."
Hogan was quiet, despite the rage he felt inside.
"Imagine, Rob," Sam continued quietly, "…feeding hundred, thousands, millions of innocent hungry Jews, marching them to – maybe even having them dig their own graves, then just sitting back and watching them as they die within a few days. Simple, quick, effective. Don't even have to get your kraut hands dirty."
Both men sat saying nothing, lost in their individual visions of hell. Besides, what could be said of atrocity?
"But … " Hogan finally spoke. "They'll never get away with it. It's … it's too big of an undertaking … it's … it's…" he stumbled, grasping desperately at straws.
Sam shook his head and explained how the Japanese had already gotten away with it in Manchuria. Just a few years before, using scores of human subjects to test the lethality of various disease agents, including anthrax, cholera, typhoid and the plague, the Japs succeeded in killing over 10,000 innocent people. Once testing had been completed, another several hundred Chinese civilians were also killed. He explained how in October of 1940, the Japanese dropped paper bags filled with plague-infested fleas over the cities of Ningbo and Quzhou in Zheijian province; of how wells were contaminated and poisoned food was distributed to entire villages, even to starving children in schools. "What happened there, can easily happen here. And as we both know, the Germans are more than capable of doing it."
"Fortunately, Rob," Sam continued, "One of these German 'doctors' has enough decency in him to see the horror it could mean to all humanity and the need to act quickly to stop, or at least slow down, an impending genocide of the Jewish race. Dr. Konrad Zumwald was able to get a sample of the virus to the underground just a few days ago. Our scientists, myself included, worked around the clock and …, " Sam smiled triumphantly, "we were able to develop a vaccine. If we can get this vaccine back to Dr. Zumwald and he is able to distributed it to those scheduled for the next couple rounds of testing … basically, the ultimate hope is that the krauts will suddenly find the drug as ineffective, a failure and no longer a viable weapon of mass destruction, abandoning its use all together."
Hogan gave a weak smile. "And that's where I come in …"
"Yup, and that's where you come in."
The almost forgotten headache decided to make itself known again and made Hogan shut his eyes and pinch the bridge of his nose. "Okay, so, you somehow want me to get a vial of that vaccine to that doctor, right?" He asked resolutely.
But no answer followed. Hogan looked up with tired eyes. "Sam?"
"I wish it were that easy."
'Easy?!' Hogan thought. 'He's got to be kidding.'
Sam explained, "The ball is currently in Dr. Zumwald's court, so to speak. Since he's under such scrutiny since he got the virus to us, he's become very paranoid. And to be honest, I don't blame him. It's very difficult, virtually impossible to contact him, let alone get a vial of the vaccine in his hands. Intel tell us however, that he will be at Hammelburg Hospital this Friday to deliver a lecture on "medical research" to some high ranking medical officials in this area. That's four days from now. At that time, you will deliver a live sample of the vaccine directly to him. He's agreed to this and will be expecting you."
The words he was hearing began twirling around Hogan's head, and despite the headache that plagued him, he was starting to understand their true meaning. "Okay, and what exactly do you mean by a LIVE sample?"
Sam looked directly at his friend and explained slowly. "A live vaccine contains living pathogens. These pathogens invade cells within the body and use those cells to produce many copies of themselves, just as their more harmful counterparts would. Although these vaccines trigger a full immune response, there is a small risk of the virus evolving into more virulent strains. So, once a host has been infected with the live vaccine, and the immune response runs its course, a blood sample can then be taken and used to create more vaccine to …"
"Wait, wait, wait." Hogan interrupted. "Host? Immune response running its course? Forgive me Sam, I'm just a simple boy from Bridgeport. You're gonna have to explain it to me in simpler terms, 'cause if I'm getting it right …"
"Rob, we need you to be the host and to deliver the live vaccine in your blood."
"WHAT?!" Hogan jumped up from his seat.
Quickly, the other operatives rushed inside the farmhouse with guns drawn and ready.
"Whoa! Whoa! Its okay guys, I've got this under control." General Cohen said to his men. Not completely convinced all was safe, the men hesitantly retreated to their lookout spots.
Settling back down, Sam smirked. "See, I told you it was unusual."
Nonplussed, Hogan just sat there, shaking his head in disbelief.
There was only 20 minutes left before Hogan had to begin his trek back to Stalag 13, but in that short time, he finally agreed to the voluntary mission. It was crazy for sure, but the many innocent lives that could be saved became the only motivation he needed. Unfortunately, the vaccine had to be delivered in three stages, allowing the pathogens to invade his cells slowly, allowing Hogan's body to fight the virus and for it to run its course. That meant Hogan had to meet up with Sam again the next two nights for shots 2 and 3.
Sam ran down the list of symptoms Hogan would experience, assuring him that no matter how sick he would feel, it would not be fatal. This did little to relieve Hogan impending sense of doom. Yet, he rolled up his sleeve and allowed himself to be infected.
