A new map replaced the old and immediately Bacon felt his chest tighten. Instead of seeing red dots in fifteen states, there were dots in every state, and the numbers in the original states had quadrupled.

“I thought the bacteria needed a deep wound to spread,” he said.

“That was what we thought as well,” Eighty replied. “Not only has Janus become resistant to our treatment, but it is spreading in unexpected ways. It’s quite remarkable, in fact. Our scientists have never seen so profound an adaptation take place so quickly.”

“Forty-four, what is the current status of our negotiations with the secretary?” Bacon asked the senator.

“They’re panicked about the fact that word is leaking out. We knew they were stalling until their microbiologists could come up with an effective treatment, but as far as we can tell, they haven’t gotten there. The deadline we gave them is almost up, but of course with this new resistance, as soon as the government realizes what’s happened, we will have lost our leverage.”

“The rapid adaptation has taken us all by surprise,” Eighty said. “Initially, as you alluded, it took a significant inoculum of bacteria for infection to take hold—a deep wound. Now, any sized cut, even a gap from a hangnail, might be enough to cause an infection. Doctors would need to be using extreme bio-safety protocols to properly protect themselves and other patients from the germ.”

Bacon felt his cheeks flush. He dreaded the answer to the question he needed to ask.

“What does your model show in a year’s time?”

“This is just a projection,” Nine said, “but I’m afraid you’re not going to like what it shows.”

Again, one map faded from the conference screen, soon replaced by another. Bacon steeled himself. The red dots made the country appear to have suffered a severe case of the measles. Thousands of cases, involving even the less populated states.

“Good lord, what’s the death toll projection?”

“Unless we can find a way to treat the infection, the death toll will just continue to rise. In addition, of course, AP-Janus will be finished. Our bargaining chip will have vanished, and the hunt for the identities of every one of us will intensify. Sooner rather than later, the FBI will offer enough for someone to crack.”

Bacon cringed and leaned back in his plush leather chair, feeling the coldness of the damp stone floor soak into his bones. Instead of rescuing America, the Society of One Hundred Neighbors was about to destroy it.

“We are not mass murderers,” he said. “We have a purpose here.… Ideas?”

After a silent minute, Ninety-seven, the mathematician/engineer, spoke up.

“If we launch a containment strategy, we believe we can limit the loss of life to less than a thousand individuals. But remember, that’s only a projection. At the moment, the cart is very much dragging the horse.”