Transcriber's Note:

 This etext was produced from Analog Science Fact & Fiction February 1961. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U. S. Copyright on this publication was renewed. 

 THE PLAGUE

 By TEDDY KELLER

 _Suppose a strictly one hundred per cent American plague showed up. .. . One that attacked only people within the political borders of the United States!_

 Illustrated by Schoenherr

 * * * * *

Sergeant Major Andrew McCloud ignored the jangling telephones and theexcited jabber of a room full of brass, and lit a cigarette. Somebodyhad to keep his head in this mess. Everybody was about to flip. 

Like the telephone. Two days ago Corporal Bettijean Baker had beenanswering the rare call on the single line--in that friendly, huskyvoice that gave even generals pause--by saying, "Good morning. Officeof the Civil Health and Germ Warfare Protection Co-ordinator. " Nowthere was a switchboard out in the hall with a web of lines running toa dozen girls at a half dozen desks wedged into the outer office. Andnow the harried girls answered with a hasty, "Germ War Protection. "

All the brass hats in Washington had suddenly discovered this officedeep in the recesses of the Pentagon. And none of them could quitecomprehend what had happened. The situation might have been funny, orat least pathetic, if it hadn't been so desperate. Even so, AndyMcCloud's nerves and patience had frayed thin. 

"I told you, general, " he snapped to the flustered brigadier, "ColonelPatterson was retired ten days ago. I don't know what happened. Maybethis replacement sawbones got strangled in red tape. Anyhow, thebrand-new lieutenant hasn't showed up here. As far as I know, I'm incharge. "

"But this is incredible, " a two-star general wailed. "A mysteriousepidemic is sweeping the country, possibly an insidious germ attacktimed to precede an all-out invasion, and a noncom is sitting on topof the whole powder keg. "

Andy's big hands clenched into fists and he had to wait a momentbefore he could speak safely. Doggone the freckles and the unruly mopof hair that give him such a boyish look. "May I remind you, general, "he said, "that I've been entombed here for two years. My staff and Iknow what to do. If you'll give us some co-operation and a priority, we'll try to figure this thing out. "

"But good heavens, " a chicken colonel moaned, "this is all soirregular. A noncom!" He said it like a dirty word. 

"Irregular, hell, " the brigadier snorted, the message getting through. "There're ways. Gentlemen, I suggest we clear out of here and let thesergeant get to work. " He took a step toward the door, and the otherofficers, protesting and complaining, moved along after him. As theydrifted out, he turned and said, "We'll clear your office for toppriority. " Then dead serious, he added, "Son, a whole nation couldpanic at any moment. You've got to come through. "

Andy didn't waste time standing. He merely nodded to the general, snubbed out his cigarette, and buzzed the intercom. "Bettijean, willyou bring me all the latest reports, please?" Then he peeled out ofhis be-ribboned blouse and rolled up his sleeves. He allowed himselfone moment to enjoy the sight of the slim, black-headed corporal whoentered his office. 

 * * * * *

Bettijean crossed briskly to his desk. She gave him a motherly smileas she put down a thick sheaf of papers. "You look beat, " she said. "Brass give you much trouble?"

"Not much. We're top priority now. " He ran fingers through the thick, brown hair and massaged his scalp, trying to generate stimulation tohis wary and confused brain. "What's new?"

"I've gone though some of these, " she said. "Tried to save you alittle time. "

"Thanks. Sit down. "

She pulled up a chair and thumbed through the papers. "So far, nofatalities. That's why there's no panic yet, I guess. But it'sspreading like . .. Well, like a plague. " Fear flickered deep in herdark eyes. 

"Any water reports?" Andy asked. 

"Wichita O. K. , Indianapolis O. K. , Tulsa O. K. , Buffalo O. K. , --and abunch more. No indication there. Except"--she fished out a one-pagereport--"some little town in Tennessee. Yesterday there was a campaignfor everybody to write their congressman about some deal and todaythey were to vote on a new water system. Hardly anybody showed up atthe polls. They've all got it. "

Andy shrugged. "You can drink water, but don't vote for it. Oh, that'sa big help. " He rummaged through the clutter on his desk and came upwith a crude chart. "Any trends yet?"

"It's hitting everybody, " Bettijean said helplessly. "Not many kids sofar, thank heavens. But housewives, businessmen, office workers, teachers, preachers--rich, poor--from Florida to Alaska. Just when youcalled me in, one of the girls thought she had a trend. The isolatedmountain areas of the West and South. But reports are toofragmentary. "

"What is it?" he cried suddenly, banging the desk. "People deathlyill, but nobody dying. And doctors can't identify the poison untilthey have a fatality for an autopsy. People stricken in every part ofthe country, but the water systems are pure. How does it spread?"

"In food?"

"How? There must be hundreds of canneries and dairies and packingplants over the country. How could they all goof at the sametime--even if it was sabotage?"

"On the wind?"

"But who could accurately predict every wind over the entirecountry--even Alaska and Hawaii--without hitting Canada or Mexico? Andwhy wouldn't everybody get it in a given area?"

Bettijean's smooth brow furrowed and she reached across the desk togrip his icy, sweating hands. "Andy, do . .. Do you think it's . .. Well, an enemy?"

"I don't know, " he said. "I just don't know. "

For a long moment he sat there, trying to draw strength from her, punishing his brain for the glimmer of an idea. Finally, shaking hishead, he pushed back into his chair and reached for the sheaf ofpapers. 

"We've got to find a clue--a trend--an inkling of something. " Henodded toward the outer office. "Stop all in-coming calls. Get thosegirls on lines to hospitals in every city and town in the country. Have them contact individual doctors in rural areas. Then line upanother relief crew, and get somebody carting in more coffee andsandwiches. And on those calls, be sure we learn the sex, age, andoccupation of the victims. You and I'll start with Washington. "

Bettijean snapped to her feet, grinned her encouragement and strodefrom the room. Andy could hear her crisp instructions to the girls onthe phones. Sucking air through his teeth, he reached for his phoneand directory. 

He dialed until every finger of his right hand was sore. He spoke toworried doctors and frantic hospital administrators and hystericalnurses. His firm, fine penmanship deteriorated to a barely legiblescrawl as writer's cramp knotted his hand and arm. His voice burneddown to a rasping whisper. But columns climbed up his rough chart andbroken lines pointed vaguely to trends. 

 * * * * *

It was hours later when Bettijean came back into the office withanother stack of papers. Andy hung up his phone and reached for acigarette. At that moment the door banged open. Nerves raw, Bettijeancried out. Andy's cigarette tumbled from his trembling fingers. 

"Sergeant, " the chicken colonel barked, parading into the office. 

Andy swore under his breath and eyed the two young officers whotrailed after the colonel. Emotionally exhausted, he had to clamp hisjaw against a huge laugh that struggled up in his throat. For just aninstant there, the colonel had reminded him of a movie version ofGeneral Rommel strutting up and down before his tanks. But it wasn't aswagger stick the colonel had tucked under his arm. It was a foldednewspaper. Opening it, the colonel flung it down on Andy's desk. 

"RED PLAGUE SWEEPS NATION, " the scare headline screamed. Andy's firstglance caught such phrases as "alleged Russian plot" and "germwarfare" and "authorities hopelessly baffled. "

Snatching the paper, Andy balled it and hurled it from him. "That'llhelp a lot, " he growled hoarsely. 

"Well, then, Sergeant. " The colonel tried to relax his square face, but tension rode every weathered wrinkle and fear glinted behind thepale gray eyes. "So you finally recognize the gravity of thesituation. "

Andy's head snapped up, heated words searing towards his lips. Bettijean stepped quickly around the desk and laid a steady hand onhis shoulder. 

"Colonel, " she said levelly, "you should know better than that. "

A shocked young captain exploded, "Corporal. Maybe you'd better reportto--"

"All right, " Andy said sharply. 

For a long moment he stared at his clenched fists. Then he exhaledslowly and, to the colonel, flatly and without apology, he said, "You'll have to excuse the people in this office if they overlook someof the G. I. Niceties. We've been without sleep for two days, we'resurviving on sandwiches and coffee, and we're fighting a war here thatmakes every other one look like a Sunday School picnic. " He feltBettijean's hand tighten reassuringly on his shoulder and he gave hera tired smile. Then he hunched forward and picked up a report. "So saywhat you came here to say and let us get back to work. "

"Sergeant, " the captain said, as if reading from a manual, "insubordination cannot be tolerated, even under emergency conditions. Your conduct here will be noted and--"

"Oh, good heavens!" Bettijean cried, her fingers biting into Andy'sshoulder. "Do you have to come in here trying to throw your weightaround when this man--"

"That's enough, " the colonel snapped. "I had hoped that you two wouldco-operate, but. .. . " He let the sentence trail off as he swelled up abit with his own importance. "I have turned Washington upside down toget these two officers from the surgeon general's office. Sergeant. Corporal. You are relieved of your duties as of this moment. You willreport to my office at once for suitable disciplinary action. "

Bettijean sucked in a strained breath and her hand flew to her mouth. "But you can't--"

"Let's go, " Andy said, pushing up from his chair. Ignoring the brass, he turned to her and brushed his lips across hers. "Let them sweat awhile. Let 'em have the whole stinking business. Whatever they do tous, at least we can get some sleep. "

"But you can't quit now, " Bettijean protested. "These brass hats don'tknow from--"

"Corporal!" the colonel roared. 

 * * * * *

And from the door, an icy voice said, "Yes, colonel?"

The colonel and his captains wheeled, stared and saluted. "Oh, general, " the colonel said. "I was just--"

"I know, " the brigadier said, stepping into the room. "I've beenlistening to you. And I thought I suggested that everybody leave thesergeant and his staff alone. "

"But, general, I--"

The general showed the colonel his back and motioned Andy into hischair. He glanced to Bettijean and a smile warmed his wedge face. "Corporal, were you speaking just then as a woman or as a soldier?"

Crimson erupted into Bettijean's face and her tight laugh said manythings. She shrugged. "Both I guess. "

The general waved her to a chair and, oblivious of the colonel, pulledup a chair for himself. The last trace of humor drained from his faceas he leaned elbows on the desk. "Andy, this is even worse than we hadfeared. "

Andy fumbled for a cigarette and Bettijean passed him a match. Acaptain opened his mouth to speak, but the colonel shushed him. 

"I've just come from Intelligence, " the general said. "We haven't hada report--nothing from our agents, from the Diplomatic Corps, from thecivilian newspapermen--not a word from any Iron Curtain country for aday and half. Everybody's frantic. The last item we had--it was acoded message the Reds'd tried to censor--was an indication ofsomething big in the works. "

"A day and half ago, " Andy mused. "Just about the time we knew we hadan epidemic. And about the time they knew it. "

"It could be just propaganda, " Bettijean said hopefully, "proving thatthey could cripple us from within. "

The general nodded. "Or it could be the softening up for an all-outeffort. Every American base in the world is alerted and everyserviceman is being issued live ammunition. If we're wrong, we'vestill got an epidemic and panic that could touch it off. If we'reright . .. Well, we've got to know. What can you do?"

Andy dropped his haggard face into his hands. His voice came throughmuffled. "I can sit here and cry. " For an eternity he sat there, futility piling on helplessness, aware of Bettijean's hand on his arm. He heard the colonel try to speak and sensed the general's movementthat silenced him. 

Suddenly he sat upright and slapped a palm down on the desk. "We'llfind your answers, sir. All we ask is co-operation. "

The general gave both Andy and Bettijean a long, sober look, thenlaunched himself from the chair. Pivoting, he said, "Colonel, you andyour captains will be stationed by that switchboard out there. For theduration of this emergency, you will take orders only from thesergeant and the corporal here. "

"But, general, " the colonel wailed, "a noncom? I'm assigned--"

The general snorted. "Insubordination cannot be tolerated--unless youfind a two-star general to outrank me. Now, as I said before, let'sget out of here and let these people work. "

 * * * * *

The brass exited wordlessly. Bettijean sighed noisily. Andy found hiscigarette dead and lit another. He fancied a tiny lever in his brainand he shifted gears to direct his thinking back into the properchannel. Abruptly his fatigue began to lift. He picked up the new pileof reports Bettijean had brought in. 

She move around the desk and sat, noting the phone book he had used, studying the names he had crossed off. "Did you learn anything?" sheasked. 

Andy coughed, trying to clear his raw throat. "It's crazy, " he said. "From the Senate and House on down, I haven't found a singlegovernment worker sick. "

"I found a few, " she said. "Over in a Virginia hospital. "

"But I did find, " Andy said, flipping through pages of his ownscrawl, "a society matron and her social secretary, a whole flock ofoffice workers--business, not government--and new parents and newlyengaged girls and. .. . " He shrugged. 

"Did you notice anything significant about those office workers?"

Andy nodded. "I was going to ask you the same, since I was justguessing. I hadn't had time to check it out. "

"Well, I checked some. Practically none of my victims came from bigoffices, either business or industry. They were all out of one andtwo-girl offices or small businesses. "

"That was my guess. And do you know that I didn't find a doctor, dentist or attorney?"

"Nor a single postal worker. "

Andy tried to smile. "One thing we do know. It's not a communicablething. Thank heaven for--"

He broke off as a cute blonde entered and put stacks of reports beforeboth Andy and Bettijean. The girl hesitated, fidgeting, fingers to herteeth. Then, without speaking, she hurried out. 

Andy stared at the top sheet and groaned. "This may be something. Halfthe adult population of Aspen, Colorado, is down. "

"What?" Bettijean frowned over the report in her hands. "It's the samething--only not quite as severe--in Taos and Santa Fe, New Mexico. "

"Writers?"

"Mostly. Some artists, too, and musicians. And poets are among thehard hit. "

"This is insane, " Andy muttered. "Doctors and dentists arefine--writers and poets are sick. Make sense out of that. "

Bettijean held up a paper and managed a confused smile. "Here's acountry doctor in Tennessee. He doesn't even know what it's all about. Nobody's sick in his valley. "

"Somebody in our outer office is organized, " Andy said, pulling at hiscigarette. "Here're reports from a dozen military installations alllumped together. "

"What does it show?"

"Black-out. By order of somebody higher up--no medical releases. Mustmean they've got it. " He scratched the growing stubble on his chin. "If this were a fifth column setup, wouldn't the armed forces be thefirst hit?"

"Sure, " Bettijean brightened, then sobered. "Maybe not. The brasscould keep it secret if an epidemic hit an army camp. And they couldslap a control condition on any military area. But the panic will comefrom the general public. "

"Here's another batch, " Andy said. "Small college towns undertwenty-five thousand population. All hard hit. "

"Well, it's not split intellectually. Small colleges and small officesand writers get it. Doctors don't and dentists don't. But we can'ttell who's got it on the military bases. "

"And it's not geographical. Look, remember those two reports fromTennessee? That place where they voted on water bonds or something, everybody had it. But the country doctor in another section hadn'teven heard of it. " Andy could only shake his head. 

Bettijean heaved herself up from the chair and trudged back to theouter office. She returned momentarily with a tray of food. Putting apaper cup of coffee and a sandwich in front of Andy, she sat down andnibbled at her snack like an exhausted chipmunk. 

Andy banged a fist at his desk again. Coffee splashed over the rim ofhis cup onto the clutter of papers. "It's here, " he said angrily. "It's here somewhere, but we can't find it. "

"The answer?"

"Of course. What is it that girls in small offices do or eat or drinkor wear that girls in large offices don't do or eat or drink or wear?What do writers and doctors do differently? Or poets and dentists?What are we missing? What--"

 * * * * *

In the outer office a girl cried out. A body thumped against a desk, then a chair, then to the floor. Two girls screamed. 

Andy bolted up from his chair. Racing to the door, he shouted back toBettijean, "Get a staff doctor and a chemist from the lab. "

It was the girl who had been so nervous in his office earlier. Now shelay in a pathetic little heap between her desk and chair, whimpering, shivering, eyes wide with horror. The other girls clustered at thehall door, plainly ready to stampede. 

"It's not contagious, " Andy growled. "Find some blankets or coats tocover her. And get a glass of water. "

The other girls, glad for the excuse, dashed away. Andy scooped up thefallen girl and put her down gently on the close-jammed desks. He useda chair cushion for a pillow. By then the other girls were back with ablanket and the glass of water. He covered the girl, gave her a sip ofwater and heard somebody murmur, "Poor Janis. "

"Now, " Andy said brightly, "how's that, Janis?"

She mustered a smile, and breathed, "Better. I . .. I was so scared. Fever and dizzy . .. Symptoms like the epidemic. "

"Now you know there's nothing to be afraid of, " Andy said, feelingsuddenly and ridiculously like a pill roller with a practiced bedsidemanner. "You know you may feel pretty miserable, but nobody's conkedout with this stuff yet. "

Janis breathed out and her taut body relaxed. 

"Don't hurry, " Andy said, "but I want you to tell me everything thatyou did--everything you ate or drank--in the last . .. Oh, twelvehours. " He felt a pressure behind him and swiveled his head to seeBettijean standing there. He tried to smile. 

"What time is it?" Janis asked weakly. 

Andy glanced to a wall clock, then gave it a double take. 

One of the girls said, "It's three o'clock in the morning. " She edgednearer Andy, obviously eager to replace Janis as the center ofattention. Andy ignored her. 

"I . .. I've been here since . .. Golly, yesterday morning at nine, "Janis said. "I came to work as usual and. .. . "

Slowly, haltingly, she recited the routine of a routine work day, thentold about the quick snack that sufficed for supper and about stayingon her phone and typewriter for another five hours. "It was abouteleven when the relief crew came in. "

"What did you do then?" Andy asked. 

"I . .. I took a break and. .. . " Her ivory skin reddened, the colorspreading into the roots of her fluffy curls, and she turned her faceaway from Andy. "And I had a sandwich and some coffee and got a littlenap in the ladies' lounge and . .. And that's all. "

"And that's not all, " Andy prompted. "What else?"

"Nothing, " Janis said too quickly. 

Andy shook his head. "Tell it all and maybe it'll help. "

"But . .. But. .. . "

"Was it something against regulations?"

"I . .. I don't know. I think. .. . "

"I'll vouch for your job in this office. "

"Well. .. . " She seemed on the verge of tears and her pleading glancesought out Andy, then Bettijean, then her co-workers. Finally, resigned, she said, "I . .. I wrote a letter to my mother. "

Andy swallowed against his groan of disappointment. "And you told herabout what we were doing here. "

Janis nodded, and tears welled into her wide eyes. 

"Did you mail it?"

"Y . .. Yes. "

"You didn't use a government envelope to save a stamp?"

"Oh, no. I always carry a few stamps with me. " She choked down a sob. "Did I do wrong?"

"No, I don't think so, " Andy said, patting her shoulder. "There'scertainly nothing secret about this epidemic. Now you just take iteasy and--. Oh, here's a doctor now. "

The doctor, a white-headed Air Force major, bustled into the room. Alab technician in a white smock was close behind. Andy could onlyshrug and indicate the girl. 

Turning away, lighting a cigarette, he tried to focus on the tangle ofthoughts that spun through his head. Doctors, writers, societymatrons, office workers--Aspen, Taos and college towns--thousands ofpeople sick--but none in that valley in Tennessee--and few governmentworkers--just one girl in his office--and she was sicker and morefrightened about a letter--and. .. . 

"Hey, wait!" Andy yelled. 

Everyone in the room froze as Andy spun around, dashed to Bettijean'sdesk and yanked out the wide, top drawer. He pawed through it, straightened, then leaped across to the desk Janis had used. Hesnatched open drawer after drawer. In a bottom one he found her purse. Ripping it open, he dumped the contents on the desk and clawed throughthe pile until he found what he wanted. Handing it to the labtechnician, he said, "Get me a report. Fast. "

The technician darted out. 

Andy wheeled to Bettijean. "Get the brass in here. And call thegeneral first. " To the doctor, he said, "Give that girl the best ofeverything. "

Then he ducked back to his own office and to the pile of reports. Hewas still poring over them when the general arrived. Half a dozenother brass hats, none of whom had been to bed, were close behind. Thelab technician arrived a minute later. He shook his head as he handedhis hastily scribbled report to Andy. 

 * * * * *

It was Bettijean who squeezed into the office and broke the brittlesilence. "Andy, for heaven's sake, what is it?" Then she moved aroundthe desk to stand behind him as he faced the officers. 

"Have you got something?" the brigadier asked. "Some girl outside wasbabbling about writers and doctors, and dentists and college students, and little secretaries and big secretaries. Have you established atrend?"

Andy glanced at the lab report and his smile was as relieved as it wasweary. "Our problem, " he said, "was in figuring out what a writer doesthat a doctor doesn't--why girls from small offices were sick--and whysenators and postal workers weren't--why college students caught thebug and people in a Tennessee community didn't. 

"The lab report isn't complete. They haven't had time to isolate thepoison and prescribe medication. But"--he held up a four-centstamp--"here's the villain, gentlemen. "

The big brass stood stunned and shocked. Mouths flapped open and eyesbugged at Andy, at the stamp. 

Bettijean said, "Sure. College kids and engaged girls and new parentsand especially writers and artists and poets--they'd all lick lots ofstamps. Professional men have secretaries. Big offices havepostage-meter machines. And government offices have free franking. And"--she threw her arms around the sergeant's neck--"Andy, you'rewonderful. "

"The old American ingenuity, " the colonel said, reaching for Andy'sphone. "I knew we could lick it. Now all we have to do--"

"At ease, colonel, " the brigadier said sharply. He waited until thecolonel had retreated, then addressed Andy. "It's your show. What doyou suggest?"

"Get somebody--maybe even the President--on all radio and TV networks. Explain frankly about the four-centers and warn against licking anystamps. Then--"

He broke off as his phone rang. Answering, he listened for a moment, then hung up and said, "But before the big announcement, get somebodychecking on the security clearances at whatever plant it is where theyprint stamps. This's a big deal. Somebody may've been planted yearsago for this operation. It shouldn't be too hard. 

"But there's no evidence it was a plot yet. Could be pureaccident--some chemical in the stickum spoiled. Do they keep thestickum in barrels? Find out who had access. And . .. Oh, the phonecall. That was the lab. The antidote's simple and the cure should bequick. They can phone or broadcast the medical information to doctors. The man on the phone said they could start emptying hospitals in sixhours. And maybe we should release some propaganda. "United Stateswhips mystery virus, " or something like that. And we could send theKremlin a stamp collection and. .. . Aw, you take it, sir. I'm pooped. "

 * * * * *

The general wheeled to fire a salvo of commands. Officers poured intothe corridor. Only the brigadier remained, a puzzled frown crinklinghis granite brow. 

"But you said that postal workers weren't getting sick. "

Andy chucked. "That's right. Did you ever see a post office clerklick a stamp? They always use a sponge. "

The general looked to Bettijean, to Andy, to the stamp. He grinned andthe grin became a rumbling laugh. "How would you two like a thirty-dayfurlough to rest up--or to get better acquainted?"

Bettijean squealed. Andy reached for her hand. 

"And while you're gone, " the general continued, "I'll see what stringsI can pull. If I can't wangle you a couple of battlefield commissions, I'll zip you both through O. C. S. So fast you won't even have time topin on the bars. "

But neither Andy nor Bettijean had heard a word after the mention offurlough. Like a pair of puppy-lovers, they were sinking into thedepths of each other's eyes. 

And the general was still chuckling as he picked up the lone four-centstamp in his left hand, made a gun of his right hand, and marched thestamp out of the office under guard. 

THE END

 * * * * *