Chapter Three
Outside Charlotte, North Carolina

In the stifling afternoon heat, those of the Lee's neighbors who were home were surprised out of the air-conditioned comfort of their houses by the arrival of a convoy of white vans. Vans accompanied by a hastily activated National Guard unit with orders to perform crowd control and stay out of the way. As the large brakes complained loudly of stopping the heavy vehicles, two men in white isolation suits leaped from the back of the second vehicle and hustled, Michelin-Man style, to the front door. The soldiers deployed in a cordon around the edges of the Lee's property while more men in white began roping off a perimeter within which no one not wearing the baggy white suits was to be allowed.

Moments after the first two knocked on the door, a frightened young voice reached out by telephone. “Mom?”

The quavery sound of Anita's voice immediately set off alarm bells for Melissa Lee. “What's the matter honey?”

“Men in white spacesuits just knocked on the door and told me to stay inside. Said they're from the ceedeecee. Mom, what's the ceedeecee? I can see more of them outside in big white vans. And soldiers. They said I should call you and Dad and tell you to come straight home.”

Melissa's staff watched through the window of her office as the color drained completely from their boss' face. They watched, worried yet unaware, as she completed the incoming call then immediately dialed out, held a brief, animated conversation then hung up. The assistant manager barely comprehended what she was saying as she flew by on her way out the door. All he understood for sure was that something was wrong at home and she might not be in for the rest of the week.

As the sound of their boss squealing tires out of the parking lot faded, the heavy whop of helicopter blades drew their attention upward, where a pair of Blackhawks in army olive drab rocketed across their vision on a line that would soon intersect with the empty high-school parking lot.

~~~***~~~

Joshua held up an arm to shield his eyes against the blast of air and dust that swept through the cabin as the helicopter's crew chief threw open the UH-60's right-side door. With the improved view, the CDC Doctor watched the ground approach rapidly and he involuntarily stiffened, closing his eyes in anticipation of the inevitable impact.

He felt his weight shoot upward, followed by an amazingly gentle thump. Cracking open one eye, he saw Lieutenant Harris already jumping down from the door and moving in a straight line outward from the helicopter, only ducking slightly until he was clear of the rotors, which were still spinning at high speed. McCoy fumbled with the seat belts until the crew-chief took mercy on him and undid the latch with a shake of his head. In a deep crouch, he ran through the maelstrom kicked up by the buzzing machine to the waiting sheriff’s patrol car.

“Hey Bones, you can stand up now,” Harris chuckled. “Sheriff Whitaker, Doctor Joshua McCoy, CDC Atlanta.”

“Listen Fury," the doctor growled. "There are two things I detest in this world. Helicopters only count as one of them.”

Nick shook his head then turned to the Sheriff. “Sorry about that, he's a bit grouchy about his name...”

“...and the thought of what would happen if a gust of wind just happened to tilt one of those blades down to neck level as I was running beneath them,” McCoy spat. Reaching out, he offered his hand to the Sheriff. “A pleasure to meet you Sheriff, especially as your transportation isn't a mobile guillotine.”

A cloud of dust announced the departure of the first helicopter and the arrival of the second, from which alighted McCoy's medical support team. The group moved swiftly to load their gear into a white panel van. Once the team was loaded, McCoy and Harris climbed in the car with the sheriff and the two vehicles moved swiftly away from the high-school in the direction of the Lee residence.

~~~***~~~

John Lee sat numbly in the driver's seat of his pick-up. He'd passed several military road-blocks leading into his neighborhood, but at each, the MP's had merely asked to see his driver's license, and after almost cursory glances at it, had handed it back and waved him through. Now, sitting at the end of his own driveway, undergoing one final check, his mind was attempting to meld the image before him into something coherent.

But for the life of him, all he could come up with was a weird mash-up of the movies 'E.T.' and 'Red Dawn'. His house was in the process of being wrapped in a clear plastic bubble while numerous white tents were being erected or were already set up around it. Dispersed around the edges of his property were soldiers in forest BDU's, looking fully ready to repel an invasion.

"Welcome home sir..."

John shook his head abruptly at the interruption to his thoughts. "Sorry?"

The soldier, looking barely older than his own son, shook his head. "I said welcome home sir. The doctor from the CDC has asked that you meet him in that tent." Turning, the soldier waved toward one of the pavilions that had been set up in the front yard. The one that was distinguished by a hamster-tube leading from it to the now plastic covered front porch.

Parking his truck, John zombie-walked to the tent, wondering exactly what the hell was going on.

~~~***~~~

Nick noted the puzzled and haunted expression on the father's face as the worried man stepped through the tent flap. It was a complimentary match for the look on his wife's face. The daughter, who was huddled against her mother's side merely looked scared. John moved straight to the chairs where his family was sitting, sliding into the seat beside his daughter and embracing the women. Harris could see the old Jesse in all three of them. On the other hand, he had expected that one of the women would at least have borne some resemblance to the girl Jesse had become. An expectation that now lay in ashes, along with about half the theories that Joshua had spouted off in the hours since the cadet's condition had been revealed to the Lieutenant.

McCoy scooped up a legal-sized clipboard off one of the tables and nodded toward the three people sitting at the far end of the tent. Nick fell in on his right as the CDC doctor lead the way to the seated family, stopping on the opposite side of a folding table that had been set up on that end of the tent.

"Mister and Missus Lee?" He gestured for them to draw their chairs closer to the table. "My name is Joshua McCoy. I'm a doctor with the CDC's Atlanta office." He swept his hand in a gesture that encompassed Nick. "And this is Lieutenant Nicholas Harris of the 82nd Airborne. I'd like to apologize for the spectacle that has descended upon your home. May I offer you something to drink? Coffee? Soda?"

While both the adults declined, the daughter worked up her nerve. "Can I get a diet Pepsi?"

McCoy's over the top inhalation of breath, wide rolled eyes and hands dramatically clutched to his heart, was followed by a quiet exclamation. "Ahhhh. You did hear me say I was from Atlanta, right?"

The girl nodded a bit uncertainly.

"My wife works for Coca-Cola." Joshua winked. "But if you don't tell her, I won't."

At the wave of his hand, one of his team brought over a cup of ice and a can of diet Pepsi for the girl. The girl's smile and giggle went far towards relaxing the tension that had filled the tent since the mother's arrival twenty minutes earlier. Joshua and Nick pulled up chairs on their side of the table and sat down.

The father leaned onto the table. "So what exactly are your people doing on my property Doctor McCoy?"

Joshua's shoulders tensed and hunched as the doctor looked down at the clipboard on the table.

After his years of military service, both as a non-com and now as an officer, Nick knew that what was about to be laid on the table was not going to be easy for any of the parties present. He cleared his throat, choosing his words carefully, in spite of knowing that the parents were only going to hear what they wanted to hear of what he was about to say.

"As Joshua said, I'm Lieutenant Harris. I am the training officer for the JROTC cadet flight your son is assigned to."

As Nick feared, in spite of the stress he had put on the 'is', both parents went immediately pale. "Jesse is alive and in good health... Or so the doctors assure me." He quickly followed up. "However we did have an incident this morning and the results of that incident are at the core of why we are here now."

Both parents swallowed hard, but remained silent in their seats, Anita clutched tightly between them.

McCoy looked up from his clipboard. "At oh eight hundred this morning your son suffered from what at first appeared to be a case of heat stroke..."

~~~***~~~

Jesse lay in the hospital bed contemplating how his life had changed. Somehow, even though it did not yet seem to be real, he knew that what had happened to him was permanent. He thought about his parents. How would they handle his change? A warm buzz clicked in the back of his head and the former boy's brain began running through permutations. The process was like no sensation he'd ever felt before.

Staring at the acoustical tiles on the ceiling, he watched each of the scenes play out like a movie. In spite of the speed of the review, all of the information seemed to slot into his memory. With very little effort, his mind could compare any element, replacing them at a whim and tracing out the new lines of probability. A worried frown graced his newly feminine features, very few of the scenarios appeared to have positive conclusions. It seemed like in almost every outcome his father just couldn't accept the changes. Looking at the decision chains, he could see where small differences early lead to big effects later. Jesse sincerely hoped that the shadowy visions he was having were a case of his imagination running away with him, like a waking nightmare.

Earlier, Doctor Langdon had determined that the risk of seizures was low enough that the restraints could be removed. Now, to distract himself from the dark nature of his thoughts in the solitude of the hospital room, Jesse let his hands wander, exploring the strange shape of his new body. The uncomfortable weight on his chest that he had initially taken for a heavy blanket soon drew his attention. With guilty temerity, his hands came to rest on the swelling breasts that now adorned his chest.

For years, he'd had a crush on Mary Spellman, one of the school cheerleaders. As a teenage guy, he'd dreamed about getting to gently touch those forbidden regions of her female body. The sensuous shiver that raced down his spine at the light touch of his hands on his own chest suddenly brought all the changes home and the reality clicked into place. He was now a she. A SHE who was now likely to be a target of those same feelings he held for Mary.

Nausea returned, he did not want this. He had been happy as a boy. He enjoyed hunting with his father and thoughts of a military career. Women weren't allowed in combat, which meant that all the fun stuff he had looked forward to would probably be excluded from any career she might be allowed. Oh God, he was a she now. Would they even allow him/her to join? Or would they assume that he chose this and therefore must be gay? Tears began to leak from the newborn female's eyes. The boy who was Jesse cried for his lost manhood, while the girl he had become succumbed to her fear of this strange new situation in which she found herself.

The tears soon turned to huge racking sobs. Sobs so powerful that it was difficult for her to get her breath. In her state, she failed to hear the duty nurse open the door and quickly leave. In fact, she barely registered the presence of Doctor Langdon as he leaned over to inject a sedative into her I.V. line.

As the sobs subsided, the nurse sat beside her, holding the new girl's hand, gently stroking it and humming a quiet, peaceful tune. Sleep gently washed up over Jesse's consciousness, her last sensation being the nurse stroking her hand as she gently sponged the tears from her cheeks.

~~~***~~~

"Quite frankly, with the level of changes that Jesse underwent, we are amazed that she is even alive. That our tests indicate that she is a normal, fully developed sixteen year old female is, in fact miraculous." McCoy leaned back from the table and took a sip from his omnipresent coffee mug, letting the parents absorb what he had just told them.

The mother looked pale while the the father's face had colored a deep red. It was the young daughter who found her voice first. "So Jesse is now my big sister? That is sooo COOL!"

Nick tensed as rage erupted from the chair beside Anita. "It is NOT cool! You're the high-powered doctor here. Undo this!"

"Mister Lee, I would like nothing better than to do exactly that. Your son does not deserve to have his life turned completely inside out, but because of what occurred, that is exactly what is going to happen until we understand this event. This wasn't some surgical procedure that went wrong or something we can cure with a pill." The doctor took a deep breath.

"Your son's changes took place on a genetic level. Even his blood type has changed from O negative to AB positive. That alone should have killed him. Whatever it is that happened to him did not just change his physical gender, it re-sculpted his bone structure. Jesse is not a female caricature draped over a male frame, he is a very attractive female who looks as if she has been one all her life."

"We're educated people Doctor McCoy," Melissa Lee said calmly. "What you have described is impossible. People do not spontaneously swap genders."

"You are correct Missus Lee," McCoy answered. "In all of recorded medical history there are not even any apocryphal accounts that remotely resemble what happened to Jesse. We cannot begin to explain or understand it. That is why we are here. Between this house and the week he spent at Fort Bragg, there must be some environmental factor that triggered the incident."

Nick flipped a page over on the clipboard in front of him. "Normally a medical issue would not draw the attention of high levels of government, but the abnormal nature of this event has. If word of this event were to spread, the government believes that it would cause a public panic. National Command Authority has issued the following orders relating to Jesse Lee's change pending the discovery of its causes and/or his restoration to pre-change status. Under federal imminent domain, and in the interest of public health, the government is purchasing your house and all of its contents."

The Lee's started to protest, but Nick raised his hand. "Please let me finish and then I can answer your questions."

Their protests subsided.

"This is not a government land grab like seems to make the news so much lately. Per the provisos of the order, you will be paid twice fair market value for your property. Additionally, as personal items are cleared of any connection to Jesse's illness, they shall be returned to your family. Your family will be relocated, initially to Fort Bragg base family housing until proper further arrangements can be made. On base jobs commensurate with your current positions and salaries will be arranged. What happened to your son occurred on an active military reservation. The army takes care of its own, even the JROTC cadets."

McCoy leaned forward sliding an official document across the table, the large blue seal at the top announcing its importance ahead of his voice. "By order of the President of the United States, no mention of your son's condition may be made to anyone outside of the list appended to the back of this document. Your signatures are required."

~~~***~~~

Wearing isolation suits, Nick and Joshua stood in the garage of the Lee's former home. It had taken a couple hours to explain the details of the government's purchase agreement and to convince the family to sign the paperwork for that and the non-disclosure agreement. With the Lee's packed into a CDC Suburban and sent off down US 74 on the three hour drive to Fort Bragg, the two of them were performing a walk-through of the property before catching their helicopter back to the base.

"Nicely organized," McCoy's muffled voice said.

Harris looked up from the rack of dry-goods he was studying. "Jesse said that he and his dad set up the racks the weekend before he reported to Bragg."

"How many cases of water did you say he brought to camp?"

"Twenty."

McCoy gestured to the large stack of bottled water cases on the front wall of the garage. "Looks like he barely made a dent in their stock."

"Yeah, Jesse said the family wasn't prepared when Hugo came through a few years ago. Every since, they've kept a full month stash of emergency supplies on hand."

"Hmm... Hope Springs' Eternal Natural Spring Water," Joshua read. "There's a young lady at the office who's addicted to this particular brand."

Second Interlude
Center for Disease Control — Atlanta, Georgia

Some men, when placed into high stress positions, gain weight. Unhealthy eating, sedentary desk-work and the instinctual human reaction to store energy when under stress combine to cause these individual's waistlines to expand to fill the available space between the arms of their comfortable leather office chairs.

Dr. Hubert Arrington was not such a man.

For him stress had the opposite reaction. It had accelerated his metabolism causing him to burn off somewhere north of a hundred pounds since he had taken the Director's position at the CDC. His once stocky and impressive six foot two inch physique had devolved into a hunched-over, cadaverous caricature of the man he had been just five years previously.

He could feel each tick of the clock. Retirement was coming soon. His only question was whether it would be in that comfortable Florida golf community his wife liked so much, or if it was going to be in a eighteen inch by thirty inch by eighty-four inch box.

The ding of the elevator pulled his attention away from thoughts of retirement. Squaring his shoulders, he marched smartly into the clerical warren of his organization.

“Good morning Doctor,” Kari Spencer smiled at him past the bottle of Eternal water she was about to sip from. “I'll be right in with today's reports.”

Hubert noted the size of her smile. “You seem in a good mood today, how was this morning's checkup?”

“Great!” The attractive brunette blushed. “Five weeks!”

The doctor chuckled. “Congratulations! Have you told the Duke fan yet?” As a graduate of the University of North Carolina medical school, the doctor had long teased Kari about her husband's fixation.

Kari's smile fell a bit as she gathered up the files and water bottle then followed him into his office. “I called Mike's job, but he'll be in meetings all day, something about problems the company is having in the Houston office. I guess I'll surprise him at dinner.”

“Some surprise! I remember when Lexi told me about our first.” He picked up one of the files and noted the title. Mortality Statistics: Quarter One 1994. “We were on our way to a romantic dinner and I almost totaled our GTO.”

Kari smiled again. “Not much in today's pile, Doctor. We have the wrap-up reports on the west-coast e-coli outbreak. Trends wants you to pay close attention to a blip they've marked in the mortality stats folder, and McCoy has faxed a preliminary report, sealed and eyes only for you on that 'special' the Army called for help with.”

“Thank you Mrs. Spencer. Why don't you take the afternoon off so you can prepare your husband's surprise.”

“Really!” Kari suppressed the urge to squeal. “Thank you sir!”

Her short hair bobbed happily as the administrative professional glided to the door.

“Oh, Mrs. Spencer, have you thought of any names?”

Stopping at the door, she put on a minx-like grin. “If its a boy, he'll be Cameron.” With a wink she ducked out the door, latching it against the exaggerated groan that escaped from the Carolina fan behind the desk.

Chuckling to himself, Hubert flipped open the mortality statistics report to the flagged section. After a moment the chuckles died as he stared at the door, then looked again at the title of the section.

Disturbing Increase in Postpartum Mortality — A National Trend: