Kill Zone Tag Line: Kill Zone is a Michael Crichton-like novel that postulates the origin of oil, possible reasons for terrorism, a solution to the energy crisis, and a potential outcome of rampant hatred.
Kill Zone Blurb: Dr. Marcy Whites overcomes enormous genetic engineering obstacles to resurrect a prehistoric bacterium, V5, capable of creating renewable oil, and reclaims the love of her life in the process. After V5 is designated a national resource, Marcy’s team is sequestered in Cheyenne Mountain, but bio-terrorism quickly overshadows her successes. People die by the millions when genetically-engineered beta-hemolytic streptococcus (BHS) is inadvertently released in Mecca, a pathogen specifically developed for bio-terrorism. Carried by fanatical Ambulatory Infectious Agents seeking martyrdom, the flesh-eating disease spreads like wildfire with a 100% kill rate, while Predictive Antiviral Project (PAP) scientists in Cheyenne Mountain race to develop a vaccine to counter it. Out of desperation, countries agree to sanitize the infectious outer perimeter of the Kill Zone with nuclear weapons, even as Dr. Whites joins the PAP team to adapt V5 as a BHS antidote. Their deadline passes, and Operation Sanitize releases mankind’s most powerful weapons against its smallest enemy. Nuclear detonations temporarily halt expansion of the Kill Zone, but Dr. Whites continues antidote refinement, knowing BHS-laden dust will eventually settle. Kill Zones soon crop up worldwide, the entire world is inoculated with V5, and energy independence is achieved; however, one year later, birth rates begin declining. Marcy and other scientists locked inside Cheyenne Mountain gird for an extended stay – at least until the anomaly can be fully explained.
Kill Zone Excerpt: Her lilac sweatsuit accentuated the gentle curves of her body as she jogged through Choi Park, but her easy appearance belied the conflict raging in her heart. Western attire offended Allah and chafed her mind. She would atone later; only her mission mattered now. She steeled herself, taking deep breaths to overcome lingering pangs of remorse for those she would murder. Most of the dead would be infidels; the faithful, martyrs. Friends, family and other Muslims would forgive her in paradise.
The fragrance of red coral honeysuckle filled the air as she broke the crest of the hill, giving her a fleeting moment of peace before she spotted her contact on the park bench in the hollow ahead. She had never met him, but the white carnation in his lapel marked him as Muhammad 313, the leader of Trenton’s Integrity and Honor sleeper cell.
Without breaking pace, she took another deep breath to quell her nervousness. She knew Muhammad 313’s reputation, a dangerous man committed to extermination of the West. She shared his goals. He would make her God’s weapon today, so she brushed aside fear and rigidly focused on Allah alone.
The man stood to leave as she sat adjacent to him, but awkwardly dropped his morning paper. Both reached to recover it in a carefully rehearsed maneuver and, during that brief contact, he softly uttered, “It will only stick a little.” Although trembling, she accepted the serum injected into her wrist, believing with all her soul it would destroy much of the immoral society of her youth.
The man removed the needle, placed several bus tickets in her quivering hand and blessed her. “Allah is with you, my child, do not let adversity equal surrender. The blessings of Muhammad are upon you, and will bring success to your mission. Go now. Go do the will of Allah.”
She retrieved the classified section from the ground, forced a smile as she passed it to the man, and continued down the path. She felt nothing, emotionally or physically. She had prepared for this moment in prayer, for becoming the living dead—the most dangerous woman on earth. Resolute but fearful, her stride lengthened as the sun’s warmth soothed her, but Muhammad 313 suspected she would soon endure great suffering.
“God’s Wrath” now flowed through her veins—IL-4M5 smallpox—the fifth genetic modification to the original human-lethal IL-4 strain. Although forecast to be smallpox at its worst, Muhammad 313 had not witnessed death from the pathogen, nor did he know its kill time or how many infidels the girl would infect as it extinguished her life. The young woman’s sacrifice would honor Allah. Her reward in Heaven would be great. Nothing else mattered.
He took a moment for silent prayer as he watched her disappear over the next hill, asking Allah to protect her from a bad reaction to the toxin. The fast-paced War of Terror forced use of incompletely tested weapons, like this one. The IL-4M5 virus survived in a Petri dish, an acceptable antidote existed and the pathogen had the potential to devastate Western populations; therefore, his handlers authorized use of an Ambulatory Infectious Agent (AIA) in attempt to beat predictive counter vaccines to non-Islamic populations. The girl was doing her duty. Allah would protect her.
Fearing pro-Western agents might secure the antidote before his AIA entered the general population, Muhammad 313 hadn’t immunized the remainder of his cell. The time had come. Using a pre-paid cell phone, he initiated the call that would bring his people to a pre-determined location at a specific time, and only after exchanging pleasantries did he mention, “Oh, yes, your dog is back,” a warning to the others the local AIA had been dispatched.
Sincerely,
James L. Hatch
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