World War Moo Read Online Free Page B

they created farcical scenarios that the pallid UN chief would condemn, strongly condemn, or ignore. Lesley plowed right in. “I’ve got a good one for you tonight. Germany invades Poland again.”
    â€œThe Germans are the only ones keeping the European economy afloat, so they can invade whomever they bloody well like,” Jack said. “Ignore or encourage.”
    Lesley smiled, but Jack kept his face straight. Around his eyes were circles so dark it made him look like he was wearing mascara.
    â€œMy turn,” he said. “Armed forces wipe out millions of people deemed subhuman and a threat to humanity.”
    That’s a bit grim , Lesley thought, but still tried to answer in a jokey tone. “Are you talking about gingers? Ignore. Ginger hair is bogging. There was a story last year about a sperm bank refusing to take donations from gingers. If I ever want a kid, that’s where I’ll go.”
    Jack’s lips stayed tight. “Actually, I’m talking about something closer to home.”
    Lesley raised a quizzical eyebrow, realizing he meant business.
    â€œYou can’t use my name,” he said.
    â€œA senior official close to the negotiations okay?”
    He nodded.
    â€œLet’s start with the cure,” he said. “There isn’t going to be one any time soon. They might be close to a treatment to control the symptoms, but it would be a series of shots. And how would they administer them? You can’t get near the infected, and you can’t trust them to take it themselves. Even if they did, the costs would be astronomical and the virus could still be passed on.”
    The shit journalist Lesley had been would have interrupted to say she knew all that. Her months in New York striving to deserve her ill-gotten reputation had taught her you never stopped somebody talking even if they were covering old ground; it gave the speaker the ego boost of feeling they were imparting crucial information, thus loosening the tongue, and some nugget you didn’t know could crop up. Applying this rule, she’d already gleaned off-the-record information on the virus from the team working on a cure. They were calling it The Bloody Mary, as it had proven to be a cocktail of viruses rammed together willy-nilly. Some of the viral components—the sneezing and the sores—served the same purpose as a booster rocket putting a space shuttle into orbit, allowing the virus to spread more quickly in the early stages. After a while they sloughed off, dealt with by the immune system, to leave the core virus responsible for the urge to attack. That was the real bugger. Like most viruses, it hid itself inside cells. The sneaky part came when it stopped hijacked cells from sending out specialized molecules telling the immune system they’d been compromised. You couldn’t fight what you couldn’t see.
    â€œThis is why we are where we are,” Jack said. “They can’t keep Britain ring-fenced forever. The cost of the operation is crippling.”
    Lesley nodded in agreement. Estimates put the outlay close to one trillion dollars and rising, straining a global economy still battling the hangover of recession. It wasn’t just the military: humanitarian aid was draining the coffers at an alarming rate. Never mind aid deliveries to Britain, there were over fifteen million expats dependent on handouts—middle-class Britons who were either on holiday abroad during the peak August season when the virus broke out or had fled the country in the expectation of spending a few weeks drinking wine and visiting art galleries while the army sorted out the animals. When humans got infected and the U.K. banks collapsed along with the rest of the country, they became a dishevelled and hungry horde with no money and nowhere to go. The largest camp, known as Little Britain, had been set up outside Calais, sprawling across miles of formerly beautiful countryside. At least