Prime Slime
Chapter 17: South of the Border

The threat of terrorism had the world in knots. Wars were raging in the Middle East and tensions were escalating globally. Rogue countries were secretly fulfilling nuclear ambitions, or threatening to blow somebody up. Piracy along the east African coast was rampant. Angry mobs attacked American embassies worldwide. Letters laced with anthrax vacated buildings. Security lines at airports were endless. These were stressful times.

A massive crop failure was more than just another nail in the coffin. Homeland security was ready for many threats, including anthrax, Ebola, hijacked airplanes, star wars, and nerve gas. But no one was primed for Prime Slime. It quickly became the center of attention.

The government was also less prepared for such an emergency. Large inventories of grains, cheese, corn and other foods were normally stored away for times like these. However, stockpiles had shrunk considerably during the long summer drought, which reduced crop output significantly. It left the US even more vulnerable to a food crisis.

Defending the country meant defending agriculture as well, since it accounted for over 15% of the US economy. Trillions of dollars, and the well being of people worldwide, were at stake. Ironically, Congress had allocated enormous sums of money for counterterrorist measures to combat biological and chemical weapons, many aimed at protecting farmlands. They just failed to recognize the real threat, which was self-created.

Regardless, the farm’s first line of defense are farmers. They perform preventive measures, such as vaccinating and quarantining animals, installing locks, restricting access, and day-to-day vigilance. Many US farmers participate in bio-terrorism training, and are ready for most anything. But not for Prime Slime.

Border Control was another deterrent of bioterrorism. Animal and plant health inspectors intercepted contraband and kept invasive species out of the country. Homeland Security conducted mock attacks on the food supply periodically, to improve response readiness. With the increasing flow of tourists, goods and services, and illegal aliens from Mexico and Canada, it was impossible to keep the borders secure. But it didn’t matter; not this time.

Consolidation of agriculture made the US especially vulnerable. High-yield, low-quality policies promoted mega-farms, at the expense of small farmers. Over a quarter of farmland–and half of sales–belonged to the ten largest US food companies. Mega-farms growing single crops were more susceptible to disease than smaller farms growing a variety of produce. Smaller farms are inherently more manageable and better cared for. Cal and Sonny specifically targeted mega-farms along the way.

Though more vulnerable, big factory farms had more resources to defend themselves, or survive a bad season. Procedures were established for employees and visitors to reduce disease spread. Trucks and vehicles were routinely disinfected. Trained dogs were employed to discourage intruders. Nevertheless, vast pastures and farmland were easily accessible, and easily targeted.

One single outbreak could cause mass confusion, threaten food safety, raise food prices, jeopardize the human and animal food supply, and trigger import bans overseas, bringing further hardship for farmers, food processors and grocers.

Countering bioterrorism also included travel restrictions, quarantines, tightened security in laboratories, even commitment of troops. The primary focus was on livestock diseases, such as foot-and-mouth or mad cow. Improved testing for soybean rust and wheat bunt disease were also recently employed. With the advent of molecular biology, many more threats could be detected earlier and better than before. But they still had no handle on slime.

One example, and a major threat to the wine industry, was a slime disease spread by grasshoppers in California vineyards. Agronomist had been fighting it off over the last decade with conventional, synthetic chemicals, with some success. But, there was no real slime-fighting chemical in their arsenal.

Early detection could make the difference between an isolated outbreak and a raging epidemic. Air-quality monitoring systems were installed across the country to detect a wide range of diseases and chemicals. Data from such systems were collected and analyzed on a national computerized network, to help monitor livestock and crop diseases.

With all this preparation, no one expected Prime Slime to slip through the cracks. There was nothing known about it, outside of Dr. Lucian’s lab. Beyond nuclear weapons, nothing ever killed so rapidly or indiscriminately. And, its dissemination across the land was no natural process; the tortuous trail was certainly not nature’s design. Some even attributed it to a vengeful God, or alien forces.

The current bio-defense initiative to combat Prime Slime brought together engineers and scientists from academics, industry and government, including Homeland Security, ARS, DOD, the CDC, and various other acronyms. New technologies, such as hand-held bio-sensors, bio-surveillance systems, decision analysis aids, and computer modeling, were implemented. Virtual reality simulators were employed for combat training.

In the trenches, healthcare experts were attending to medical and surgical needs. Psychologists were dealing with anxiety, emotional breakdown and mass hysteria. Food and shelter were provided at municipal centers and various government outposts. All activities were coordinated by the “Crop Cops” at the Department of Agriculture.

The fact that two lowly Mexican farmhands caused all this mayhem was unfathomable. The entire history of terrorism paled in comparison. Prime Slime took no prisoners, cutting down crops like a hot knife through butter, and leaving people destitute. Cal and Sonny paid back their tormentors, but so many more paid the price. Now safe in Mexico, they celebrated the dwindling US food supply. American haters rejoiced worldwide. Goliath was taken down by an unlikely David.

As the panic intensified, another Presidential press conference was summoned. Taking his usual tough stand, the President promised that the terrorists would pay dearly. As a measured response, he ordered attacks on strategic targets in the Middle East, insisting that these rogue nations had weapons of mass destruction. Most Americans were solidly behind these pre-emptive military strikes. Hatred towards America was reason enough.

The President yielded the microphone to General Fortissimo for details on the blight. On a computerized screen, the General outlined the serpentine trail that Prime Slime tore through the eastern half of the country, showing how rapidly it had spread. A swath of devastation hundreds of miles thick cut through the heartland. Much of the Jersey crop that fed New York was destroyed. Texas showed the most destruction, since it was the first to be hit by the rains.

More rain from the Gulf traveled up the country and was heading East, causing more flooding and destruction. Another soaking followed, and then another, in the same week. Once dying for rain, the country was now dying because of it.

Evan knew how to stop this thing, but his hands were tied. The Feds would not buy his story, or his anti-slime agent. Instead, toxic chemicals, fire and destruction went on unabated, to no avail.

When it reached the Mississippi River, the contagion was carried southward toward New Orleans. Heavy rain and flooding transported the disease to adjacent farmlands, and the disease spread contiguously. Positioned along the river, troops employed flame-throwers and chemicals to contain the slime, but their efforts made things worse. Precision bombing merely spread the disease further. With unsuitable weapons, they were shooting themselves and the country in the foot.

Food shortages quickly thinned out the marketplace. Panic in stores brought out the worst in people: hoarding food by the cartload; fighting for scraps; knocking over store displays looking for crumbs; even punching each other out.

The meat section was quickly emptied, as cattle feed dried up. Things got worse when supermarkets closed their doors. Angry crowds threw rocks through store windows and broke into places. The hungry stood in long lines for rations at churches and civic centers. There was nothing civil about those lines, either. It was an unruly mess.

In one fell swoop, the world witnessed the collapse of conventional farming. Farms left standing in infested areas were mostly organic. It was now obvious that organic food was superior. No talking heads for the food industry, or scientists paid under the table, could spin this one. Organic plants thrived even in drought, since their soils retained moisture. It was the only decent food available in stricken areas. Fortunately, food was arriving from California and parts west. Expensive to begin with, organic prices would have shot through the roof if not for government subsidies.

Prime Slime destroyed an inferior crop and opened the way for organic agriculture, though it did so at great expense and hardship. George witnessed first-hand the demise of the conventional farm near Terra. A single squirt from Cal’s hose took off like a California wildfire when the rains came, and took down the entire farm. It was bittersweet seeing such unbridled destruction so close to home, despite his contempt for the place.

However, George’s compassion fell short when it came to Cal and Sonny. He knew where they were, and wanted to give them a piece of his mind. No matter how much he hated factory farms, George could not stomach this kind of suffering.

Following his impulses, George caught a flight out of Newark to Houston with a connecting flight to Laredo, on the Mexican border. In the Laredo airport, he rented an old VW from Rent-A-Bug, Inc. and headed toward Mexico, just a few miles away. He drove past the old hotels on Convent Avenue, recalling his first encounter with Cal and Sonny. They had been working the pecan groves not far from Nuevo Laredo. George came to appreciate the work ethic among the Mexican poor, and saved Cal and Sonny from their plight. He was their savior then; now he was their dupe.

Waiting at Customs on the U.S.-Mexican border, George watched the flood of Mexicans on foot en route to the US. The line was longer than usual, having stalled from recent events. With no work in the fields, the flow of migrant workers through Customs slowed to a crawl. Poor to begin with, Mexico was also caught in Prime Slime’s death trap.

Traveling into Mexico was usually much faster. Mexican Customs consisted of a few laid back, overweight Federales, who rarely asked questions, and often took handouts. Passage into Mexico was now at a standstill. Officials worried that the infestation might be carried into Mexico. They were checking all items for vegetation. The Crop Cops were also looking for suspects. Meanwhile, workers returned home with empty pockets and empty stomachs. Many did not make it back alive.

It took forever, sitting in a hot bug with no air, under an unforgiving Mexican sun, but George finally bribed his way through Customs. He paid the toll and drove across the Rio Grande. In Nuevo Laredo, he drove straight to La Zona Rosa, his comrades’ favorite haunt. As young men, they used to frequent the 1,2,3 Bar, a popular brothel in the Red Zone. For a 20-year-old, it was 1-2-3, and you were out of there. Many Mexican men hung out at the bar drinking and watching stupid gringos stagger in and out. Sure enough, George found Cal and Sonny in their usual spots.

It was only mid-day, but Sonny was already crocked. Grinning like an idiot, and spinning 360s on his bar stool, he suddenly caught a glimpse of George. The stool jerked to a halt, as he tried to hide behind his drink. Cal saw Sonny turn white, and turned to see George standing tall, like John Wayne, at the saloon door.

“Welcome back to Mèjico and the world famous gringo brothel. I told you Sonny; 1, 2, 3 and he’s here!”

George stared into Cal’s eyes, trying to detect some sense of remorse. “You know, those scientists trusted us. And now they’re taking the rap for what you did. Millions of innocent lives and livelihoods are in jeopardy. Animals are starving to death. Did it ever occur to you how much suffering you would cause?”

Cal’s smile morphed into a scowl. Sonny sunk into his shirt.

“What about our suffering? What about all my people, and the poor people around the world who’ve been destroyed?” Cal raised a fist in honor of his ancestors. Sonny kept his head buried.

“All those pigs want something for nothing. They hire niggers, gooks and wetbacks to work for them. We’re treated like shit just to make a shitty product and fatten their dirty wallets! Nobody cares about our health or welfare! They get theirs and they screw everyone else! Is that the side you are on, my friend?”

George could not argue that point. But, he could not sanction their actions. He was crippled in silence.

Sonny emerged from his shirt and broke it down for him. “Look at it this way, boss. We put a sorry horse out of its misery.”

Cal elaborated further. “Most of that shit we destroyed was corn and soybeans, man! Joo know they ain’t shit, man! They’re genetically modified, subsidized, overproduced, inferior, and a poison on the people! They reek of pesticides and synthetic fertilizer. They’re fed to cattle in filthy feedlots to fatten them up, fuck them up, and create toxic runoff. Corn ain’t no good for cows, joo know dat! They’re fed tons of antibiotics to prevent disease. Corn-fed cows ain’t good to eat, either. They’ll give you a heart attack! And, dose GMO soybeans ain’t worth a shit!”

“They’re full of inflammation,” Sonny added, jabbing the air with his finger.

“People eat tons of high fructose corn syrup in processed foods! High fructose dis!” Cal grabbed his crotch. “Dat ain’t food, man! Dat’s poison! We didn’t destroy their food supply. We saved them from heart disease and cancer! We cleared their land for renewal! We did America a huge favor!”

Again, George could not argue. Instead, he blamed himself. Many years ago he had nursed these two poor souls back to health, and taught them how to make compost tea. He even brought one of them into a top-secret lab. These mistakes began to weigh heavily on him. George was as much to blame as anyone.

And who could blame Cal and Sonny? Their lives were all about suffering. Their vengeance was blind.

The three men sat at a table and quietly finished off a bottle of tequila. Then, without a word, George got up and staggered away, knowing they would never meet again.

On the way home, George reckoned that things happen for a reason. “We’re all responsible for Prime Slime to some degree,” he thought. So, he let it go. His mind was now squarely on moving forward and helping Evan.

On the flight home, George called Evan’s cell phone.

“What’s going on?” he asked.

“We’re waiting for the Feds to fail,” Evan responded.

“Shouldn’t you be in the lab preparing MIFF?”

“I’m heading that way. The whole science department is churning out buckets of it as we speak. Terri and Dexter are coordinating the effort. Those two are great. They’re determined to make things right again.”

“Aren’t we all? By the way, has it been tested in the field yet?”

“Not the new formulation,” Evan admitted, “but in the lab it worked like a charm. Once the military uses up their poisons, they’ll come begging.”

“Can you believe what’s happening?”

“The irony is precious.” Evan said, perking up.

“Two disgruntled farm hands—treated like animal waste—take the richest country in the world down to its knees.”

“It’s biblical!” Evan offered.

“Hilarious, yet tragic.”

“There’s nothing humorous about it,” Evan insisted. Suddenly both men broke out laughing, then got serious again. They didn’t know how to act.

“What’s funny are those jerks in Washington,” Evan quipped.

“Not as funny as the food industry,” George assured him.

“It just makes you want to cry. When will they ever learn?”

“A long time ago, the Buddha explained why people suffer,” George preached. “Greed, ignorance and hatred are the cardinal sins. Now, 2500 years later, we’re still in the same sorry state.”

Evan agreed. Nan had also preached something similar.

“It’s just too bad they shunned your MIFF,” George bemoaned. “You proved their effectiveness beyond a doubt.”

“The Feds are in cahoots with the corporations. So what’s new? It’s all about money.”

“They’ll be listening soon,” George conceded.

“I know. Prime Slime is winning. There’s been a massive call-up of the National Guard, equipped with blow torches no less.”

“Slash and burn,” George sighed.

“It’s upon me,” Evan exclaimed. “This was meant to be.”

“I also want vindication,” George added. “Stop this thing and bring our guilt to rest,” George implored.

“It will be your turn soon,” Evan responded. “If we survive this, the whole country will go organic. I pray it’s not too late,”

George was now brimming with hope. “Once you snuff it out, they’ll be no choice but to go organic. Our work has just begun.”

“I look forward to working with you,” Evan asserted.

“And I with you,” George responded heartily. “Together we’ll nurse the earth back to health.”

In the lab, Dexter and Terri were watching a newscast on Evan’s computer screen with other Burrstone scientists. General Fortissimo’s computerized US map was littered with digital slime. Prime Slime’s ability to travel down rivers hastened its spread. There was now a major blight expanding outward from the Mississippi River. Much of the eastern US farmland was now decimated. Prime Slime spread contiguously from plant to plant, but also in the air, through raindrops and mist. It traveled the rivers and byways, hopping from farm to farm, lawn to lawn. It even took some trees down. But, for the most part, the forests proved impenetrable, and hindered the spread. Organic plants were also resistant, but comprised only a small amount of the crop.

The cost to agriculture and the economy was staggering, and the food supply was dwindling. Farm animals were dying in the fields. Federal and state budgets were being sapped. Millions of jobs were lost. People feared for their lives, as Prime Slime’s tentacles threatened to reach worldwide.

The Feds and their industries could not stop it. Their weapons were useless. After a massive effort, defeat was conceded, and Plan B was set into motion. Operation MIFF was now in order.

There were many missed opportunities to stop the blight: had Evan not consented to Dexter’s project; had someone been supervising the lab; had Burrstone incinerated the biological waste on time; had they eliminated Prime Slime early on; had Cal not accompanied George to Evan’s lab; had Cal and Sonny been treated fairly as farmhands; had the Feds heeded the farmers’ warnings; had the drought not happened; or had the rains come early, Prime Slime would either not have happened, or might not have spread so far. And, if Plan B had been Plan A, it might have made a difference. Now there was no turning back.