It was mid-July and London was melting under the worst heat wave in a century. Record-breaking temperatures had maxed out the air-conditioning units in all four terminals at Heathrow Airport. Will Beckham's maintenance team was given the Herculean task of having the entire a/c system up and running at day's end. By eight 'o clock that evening, most of the units were fixed and the airport was cooling down after a brutal day.
Will's train arrived at Peckham Rye station at nine thirty. After a long walk, he entered his tiny, rented flat on Asylum Road across from Presco Food and Wine. The next day would be the most important of his life and if all went according to plan, the world would never be the same.
Will sat down on the torn, second-hand sofa and sent a final, encrypted message to his handler, letting him know that the problem at the airport was solved and the plan was moving forward. He then treated himself to the fish and chips that he picked up at Cod Fellas on the way home.
Will was committed to the mission. The hatred inside him burned as intensely as it ever had. The isolation and rage grew stronger every time he left his flat. Walking the streets; grabbing a coffee and bun at the bakery; taking the train to work, he felt like a foreigner - a stranger in his own country. The Britain of his forefathers; the land of empire and glory had faded to nothing before his very eyes. To Will, it had become a steaming, smelly mass of mongrels gorging on the leftovers of his beloved England.
The "good ole' days" were mostly over by the time Will was born, now, there was no trace left . Nothing special and nothing exceptional left about this once great country, just a dumping ground for the world's refugees and migrants.
He popped the last chip in his mouth and washed it down with a huge swill of Fuller's. Throwing the wrapper and empty can in the trash bin, he opened the fridge door and grabbed another can of beer. Drinking would be crucial, if he wanted to sleep.
Will went to the closet in his bedroom and grabbed a large, red, duffel bag and sat back down on the sofa. He pulled out the aerosol dispensers, disguised as portable gas leak detectors and organized them into three rows of six on the coffee table in front of him. He checked and re-checked them. They were loaded and everything appeared to be working properly.
He was filled with hatred, anger and bigotry, yet he was not someone you could easily dismiss and write-off as a total maniac from birth. His rage was forged in a lifetime of tragedy, heartbreak, neglect and abuse. Losing his mother and father at a young age, he and his sister, Maggie were bounced around from foster home to foster home, never quite feeling welcome, or truly loved. They were eventually separated and forced to live in different homes. A void between them developed and they lost touch over the years.
Eight beers in, Will couldn't fall asleep. He felt full and bloated, his head pounding with a massive headache. The anxiety and guilt now arriving in consistent waves. He pushed the thoughts back and suppressed them with rationalizations and the demented view that he would actually be doing society a favor.
Four o' clock rolled around the next morning, and he was still on the sofa. The early news on the television lit-up the darkened room in flashes. He stared and thought about the news reports a week from now, when the full scope of the mission was complete. What would they say? Would they know by then who was responsible?
He showered, shaved, and got dressed, then packed six of the aerosol dispensers into the side pocket of his work bag and walked out the door to catch the five o' clock train. The commute seemed longer than usual that morning. Will was standing in the center of the train, holding the rail to keep balance. And of course, it was packed full of the foreigners that Will hated so much. He reached his hand down and unzipped the side pocket of his work bag. He pulled one of the aerosol dispensers half way out. He was close to pushing the power button and activating it, as the train came to a stop at Boston Manor Station. It was there that he received the shock that almost threw him off course.
A nice, young family boarded the train. Will recognized the father immediately, it was Allistair Parker, his third foster father. He was holding the hand of one of his twin daughters. Candice, his wife, followed behind him with the other daughter in tow. They jostled onto
the crowded train and ended up only a few feet from Will. He turned his head and looked away, to avoid being recognized. Out of his peripheral view, he could see Allistair lean over and pick up one of the twins to keep her from being crushed by the crowd of people.
"It's alright darling, we'll be there in no time." he said.
Candice picked up the other child.
A smile appeared on Will's face. It was involuntary. What a nice family, he thought to himself in a moment of weakness. Then the smile faded as he came to. He began sweating profusely, his armpits dampened. Beads of perspiration formed on his forehead and cascaded down his cheek. He wiped his face with a handkerchief from his pant's pocket, still looking in the opposite direction to avoid being seen by the Parkers.
It had been four years since that sunny day in March, when Allistair Parker told him the news that they were sorry and that they cared for him, but with Candice expecting twins, they did not have the resources and space for him to continue living with them.
Guilt bubbled up through his body and his internal temperature rose higher. He couldn't reconcile the worry he was feeling for the Parker's. Yes, they were nice people, but they had essentially given up on him. Their abandonment lead directly to Bernie Johnson and two long years of abuse. Abuse that ruined his life more than his father's suicide, or his mother's cancer ever could have. The Parkers were able to carry on with their happy, little family, while Bernie was climbing into bed with him, breathing his sour, boozy breath down his neck every night.
That thought calmed him. Will was an absolute master at manipulating himself. That's right, the Parker's had been instrumental in his downward spiral and they should be punished along with everyone else. Why should they be unscathed by the monster they helped create?
The surge of resentment and bitterness settled him, it always did, but it was not enough. Will's heart was racing out of his chest, the anxiety steadily increasing until hitting a climax as the train reached Osterely Underground station and came to a screeching halt. He looked at the Parkers, thought for a moment and then pressed the power button and let loose the Variola contained inside.
When the train reached Heathrow station, the Parker family exited. Will hung back for a few seconds and watched them as they held hands in a chain and then disappeared out of sight. They had no idea what would soon be coming. Their fate was in God's hands now.
Will swiped his security card and entered through a side door for airport staff. David Jones was the only other maintenance worker in the Terminal 2 office. David, or Davie as he was called by the other staff members, was in on the plot and they both agreed to be there an hour early to go over final preparations for the day.
"You ready?" Davie asked in his high-pitched Cockney.
Will didn't respond.
"I didn't sleep at all last night. I'm so sparked, I feel like I could burst out of my skin any moment." said Davie, looking at Will for some kind of confirmation.
Will could smell the booze on Davie's breath. His eyes were so blood shot it looked like he might have finished off a mountain of cocaine all by himself.
"How high are you?" Will asked and moved within inches of Davie's face.
"I'm fine, mate. I was up all night..."
"You're not going to fuck this up are you?" Will interrupted. He grabbed Davie by his collar.
Davie backed away the best he could and produced a nervous smile. "I'm fine. Just nerves, that's all."
"You've got your dispensers?" asked Will, letting go of Davie's collar.
"Yeah. There in the bag." Davie pointed at his workbag and then tried to straighten out his shirt.
"Put two of them on the outer pockets of your bag and start running them when you ride through Terminal Five like we planned. Make a few stops in crowded areas."
"Got it." Davie answered.
"Then go to the main ducts and place them as far in as you can."
Will moved closer to Davie again. "It is absolutely critical that you don't let anybody see you do this, okay?"
"Okay."
"If you see somebody, don't take any chances."
Davie looked even more nervous and out of sorts than he did before.
Will grabbed another aerosol dispenser and let it hang out the side pocket of his bag, just as he done on the train. He grabbed the bag off the table and began heading out. " I'll do the same in Terminals Two and Four. We'll leave the dispensers in the ducts until tomorrow morning, take away the old ones and repeat with new."
"Don't screw it up." Will said and then headed out the office door. He walked down the long corridor to the International Departures area and paused for a second. Streams of people were beginning to walk down the hall from the security gate for their early morning flights. Will stood and looked at the mass of people filing in to the main terminal area and pressed the power button on the fake gas leak detector.
A pregnant lady in a blue maxi dress caught his eye. She was pulling a rolling suitcase behind her and talking on her Ocular View wearable device. She was close enough to Will that he could hear her American accent and make out what she was saying to the person on the other end of the call.
"How are the boys?" she asked. "I know, Sammy is such a mess." She laughed and then fell forward, stumbling to her knees just feet from where Will was standing. Her dress was caught in the wheels of her luggage.
Will moved to her without hesitation and helped her to her feet.
She gave the embarrassed laugh a person gives when trying to shake off humiliation and mouthed "thank you so much" to Will for his assistance and continued her call.
Will looked over the railing at the Departures Terminal below filling with people. He walked down the stairs among the crowd of travelers and grabbed a coffee from Ca'puccino and then went to work infecting as many people as possible.
