Lost Immunity by Daniel Kalla (free reads TXT) 📕

has been shown to be effective against the Icelandic strain of type B meningococcus.”

“In the lab, maybe,” Fiona says. “It still hasn’t been proven to work in the field.”

“In fairness, Fiona, there hasn’t been a field to prove it on,” Nathan says.

“How so?” Lisa asks.

“The only known outbreak of this pathogen has been in Reykjavík—”

“Until now.”

“Maybe,” he says. “But by the time we had enough vaccine produced to test it in the real world, the outbreak in Iceland was over.”

“Or dormant,” Lisa says.

“Either way, there were no subjects actively exposed—no test kitchen, as it were—to trial the vaccine’s effectiveness on.”

“We had to rely on animal models and serum analyses to test for immunogenicity,” Fiona says, using the elaborate term for a vaccine’s ability to provoke production of specific antibodies to a pathogen in the bloodstream after immunization.

“But the lab tests have been very encouraging, haven’t they?” Lisa persists. “They do strongly suggest, don’t they, that Neissovax would work against the Icelandic strain?”

Fiona looks skyward. “Always a leap of faith to go from the test tube to the real world.”

Lisa nods again. “How does your vaccine differ from the ones already on the market?”

“Neissovax targets entirely different proteins than the other existing vaccines,” Nathan explains with unmasked pride. “Subcapsular proteins that are under the cell wall itself. Our vaccine invokes a powerful immune response after inoculation that produces high levels of circulating antibodies in subjects against multiple strains of type B meningococcus.”

“Including the Icelandic strain?”

“Yes.”

“Hate to sound like a broken record.” Fiona sighs. “But only in the lab, so far.”

“In people, too, Fee.” Nathan smiles to hide his irritation. It’s beyond unprofessional to bicker with a colleague in front of a client, even one as unsolicited as Lisa is. “The immunogenicity is impressive. We’ve seen the antibody levels go through the roof in healthy volunteers. And the animal modeling has already shown how effective it can be in protecting against this bug.”

“Discovering a universally effective type B meningococcus vaccine is like finding the Holy Grail of vaccinology,” Lisa says.

Nathan chuckles. “Even at Delaware, we aren’t that grandiose.”

Lisa isn’t smiling. “But you must be pretty confident in your product if you’re ready to immunize all of Reykjavík with it.”

“Not the whole city,” Fiona points out. “Fifty thousand doses.”

Lisa shrugs. “I’m only requesting a few thousand doses.”

That’s the last thing in the world we need, Nathan thinks as he casually lowers his cup. “What would be the point of that?”

“To vaccinate the people at the highest risk. Direct contacts, health-care workers, and people living nearest to the victims.”

Nathan shares a quick look with Fiona. “That would put Delaware in a no-win situation,” he says.

“How is it different from the trial you’re planning in Reykjavík?”

“With the relatively small sample size you’re suggesting, you can’t really show clinical efficacy,” he explains. “And you’re talking about the highest-risk group of individuals. If one of them were to still to get sick after immunization…”

“What if no one does?” Lisa asks. “Imagine what a powerful endorsement of your product that could be.”

“No vaccine is a hundred percent effective. Besides, if no one gets infected, people would argue that it wasn’t a large enough target population.”

“And,” Fiona stresses, “if someone does have a serious adverse reaction…”

“It would look even worse for Neissovax,” Nathan says.

Lisa frowns. “Adverse reactions are a risk with every drug, old and new.”

“But when it comes to new vaccines, those kinds of stories are magnified and distorted by the anti-vax community.”

Lisa sips her coffee before replying. “What if Seattle were to take the place of Reykjavík? Let’s say we dispense all fifty thousand doses here instead of over there?”

“We’re all set up in Iceland,” Fiona says. “We don’t have any of the infrastructure in place here.”

“That’s true. The potential exposure for us…” Nathan holds up a palm. And then he delivers the message he flew across the country to give in person. “Obviously, we would love to help. But it’s just too soon to release Neissovax here in the Pacific Northwest.”

“You have a business to protect. I get that.” Lisa’s eyes bore into his. “But I was at the bedside of a young girl just hours before she died. If you could’ve seen her grandfather…”

“I can’t even imagine.” Nathan thinks momentarily of his own sons before focusing back on his primary goal: to minimize Delaware’s exposure. “But it’s our job to make sure we don’t put the cart before the horse.”

“And it’s my job to do everything I can to prevent more deaths.”

CHAPTER 12

“Hey, buddy, what’s up? Your video over?” Max Balfour asks, trying to hide how startled he feels. His son has a habit of sneaking up on him, especially at times like now when Max is in his home office, totally consumed by the latest blog entry he’s writing.

Without removing his bulky wireless headphones, Jack stares past his dad with a look that is simultaneously blank and intense. “I’m hungry.”

Reluctantly, Max spins away from his desktop computer and rises to his feet. “Let’s make you a grilled cheese.”

“No crust.”

“As if! What kind of amateur do you take for me?” Max squeezes his son’s shoulder before Jack, as expected, jerks away.

Max can’t believe how much Jack has grown. His son, who just turned thirteen, is almost as tall as him. Max is dreading the teen years—both the new challenges they will bring and the loss of childhood they mark. “Four carrots, right?”

Jack nods. “Four. Sliced in quarters.”

His son is so exact about numbers. They have to be even and, ideally, divisible into one another. Max understands the obsession is a common feature of the autistic spectrum—a coping skill that helps Jack bring order to his chaotic thoughts. While deeply devoted to his son, Max finds his behavior so foreign and, sometimes, extremely frustrating. But he rarely reveals that to Jack. No, he saves his wrath for his activism. For the people responsible for his son’s condition.

As they walk toward the kitchen, Max asks, “Jack, you want to tell me what happened