Free Invasive Procedures by Aaron Johnston Page A

person. In this case, it had been engineered for Patrick Caneer. The strain of virus carried exactly what
he
needed, the genes to cure
his
sickle-cell. To everyone else, however—Patrick’s family, his neighbors—the virus was a terrible threat. Lethal, even. Let’s not forget our friend here.” He tapped the image of the dead police officer. “And the Healers are obviously aware of the threat. Otherwise, they wouldn’t bother to build a containment curtain.Patrick also informed us that the Healers explained to his family the need to steer clear of the kid while the virus ran its course.”
    Insane. Absolutely insane. So irresponsible in the handling of a lethal virus that it took Frank a second to gather his thoughts. “And when you found him,” he said finally, “he was okay?”
    “We went in in full biogear, contained the whole apartment. Then we took him to our infirmary. He’s been there ever since. But that’s not even the really bizarre part of the whole story. The bizarre part is this. According to tests we’ve conducted, he no longer has sickle-cell anemia.”
    Frank couldn’t hide his surprise. “You mean . . . he’s cured?”
    “I mean he no longer has sickle-cell anemia. Whether it was the virus or not, I don’t know. But the kid ain’t sick with sickle-cell anymore. That much I
do
know.”
    Frank put a hand to his head. This wasn’t making sense. A crazy religion, made up of bodybuilders, no less, had enlisted the help of a blacklisted geneticist and whipped up a gene-therapy virus that by one account, at least, might actually work.
    “You’re telling me this kid is in your infirmary right now?”
    “Right now.”
    “And he still has the virus inside him?”
    “That’s what I’m telling you. And that’s why we needed the countervirus you created immediately, whether it was fully tested or not. We have to get it in this kid, not to mention the other patients we’ve picked up from this list.”
    “The others?”
    “There’s eight names on this list. We’ve collected all eight of them. They’ve all been to our infirmary. All in the last forty-eight hours. And they’re all waiting for you.”
    Frank sat forward in his seat. “You mean they all still have the virus in them, whatever strain they were given?”
    “No,” said Riggs. “Some of them were patients weeks ago—months ago, even.”
    “And they’ve been lying in bed in a containment curtain all this time?”
    “No, they’ve been living their lives normally,” Riggs said. “Better than normal, because they don’t show any symptoms of the genetic disease they once had.”
    “So they’ve been healed?”
    “So it seems.”
    Frank looked down at the list of names and then back up at Agent Riggs. “But how are they able to move about and interact with people in the world if they have the virus in them?”
    “That’s just it,” said Riggs. “They don’t have the virus in them. Three days after giving someone the virus, Healers return and administer
their
version of a countervirus, which cleans the virus out of the person’s system. They take down the plastic. The Healer leaves. And the person goes about his or her life again.”
    “So the Healers have a countervirus?”
    “A version of one. Apparently. That’s how they stop the virus in the people they treat. We, however, for the past six months, have only had a sample of the
virus
. We haven’t had a countervirus. Now, thanks to you, we do.”
    “Maybe,” said Frank.
    “Don’t say maybe,” said Riggs. “We’re counting on you.”
    Frank felt overwhelmed. “Okay. Let me get this straight. Healers walk into a person’s apartment. They hang a bunch of plastic around the bed and put an IV in the person’s arm.”
    “Right,” said Riggs.
    “Then they administer the virus.”
    “Which has been engineered for that person, so it helps them, not hurts them.”
    “Engineered for that person, yes,” said Frank. “Then the Healer tells this patient