WHO Preparing For Theoretical Man Made Disease Outbreak

Good time to think about contagious disease and other pandemic preps

Deadly new epidemic called Disease X could kill millions, scientists warn
An unknown and deadly new illness dubbed Disease X has been added to the list of potential global epidemics that could potentially kills millions.

Each year scientists with the World Health Organisation (WHO) create a list of the most likely diseases to break out into a worldwide pandemic.

This year, among the familiar Ebola, SARS, and Zika viruses is the new name of Disease X.

And unlike the other pathogens, it is not known what causes Disease X or how doctors could try to treat it.

Researchers said that they added Disease X to the threat list to recognise the fact that the next deadly pandemic could be started by an illness that has not caused any problems before...."

More at link above

 

part of a multicenter clinical trial, researchers at University of California, San Diego School of Medicine are evaluating Pexa-Vec (JX-594) to slow the progression of hepatocellular carcinoma (HCC) or liver cancer. Pexa-Vec is a genetically engineered virus that is used in the smallpox vaccine.

Other researchers are experimenting with cancer treatments using viruses including HIV, small pox and measles

Mutating a known, deadly disease - what could possible go wrong? I wrote a short story about this very thing....


The Cure

Matt's luck had gone downhill after his first week on site. The slide started with the littlest of things. His radio broke. No real loss, weather reports from the distant cities were more a source of amusement than any real value. In his hidden valley, alone with the sheep and his dogs, it was nothing. The weather changed as it would, he could only cope as best as he might.

Then his horse managed to stupidly break a leg. Running in a panic over nothing it found a rodent hole. The break was massive, bone was sticking out of the animals flesh. He'd been forced to shoot the poor thing. Now moving his herder's wagon would require the use of a truck or another horse. Worse, he had no idea how old man Caruthers would take the loss. Even though he had worked for the old man for the last four years, it was nearly impossible to know what he was thinking at any given time. This wasn't just a low budget operation, it worked on less than a shoestring, in fact.

Then he was up valley checking a stream when Caruthers made his supply drop days early. It would be another two months before he could count on the old man's return. The wind and rain ruined the stack of newspapers he'd left with the supplies, while the stack of lurid novels had oddly survived. The novels would be perfect to fire up his woodstove in the mornings.

As each day came and went, he always had 'extra' things to do. Some days a bath, others, he spent washing his clothes. The dogs seemed happy on those days where he would read aloud entire passages of Shakespeare. His Kindle was a lifeline to reality. He'd heard of sheepmen that had gone catatonic. Some even to the point of forgetting how to speak, the loneliness and the isolation out here could be so overwhelming at times.

He noted the weather or anything else that changed in his daily journal. The journal calendar was also carefully marked each day, along with a list of items he would want to ready the outfit for the fall movement of the herd. Writing out the details gave him another outlet to escape, even if it was just for a moment.

The one bit of real excitement was the day the plane crashed. The aircraft passed overhead, lower than he thought of as normal, disappearing into the hills, later to be replaced by a thin column of smoke. He'd waited for two days for the rescuers to arrive, only to be disappointed. He made note of where he thought it might have crashed. That information would go out with Caruthers. Somebody somewhere would care. He knew that beacons often failed to work or were destroyed when aircraft crashed. So he made the notes, then put the event out of his mind.

Two months came and left. No Caruthers on the appointed day. Each day after that, he became more anxious, Had the old man gotten sick? Worse, had the old man passed on, with nobody taking on his responsibilities? A week later, he was left with no choice. He would have to walk back to town and see what had happened to Caruthers. To see what had happened, period. It was full on four months since he'd moved the herd up into the hills for the summer. He wanted to vote, so taking a trip into town was a no brainer.

He fought a battle internally. What to take on his trip? The old 30-30 would stay at the camp. It was too much weight to carry, weight better used for water. His battered old single shot .22 would go, any food he could gather along the way would be a bonus, well worth the couple of pounds the rifle represented. He'd long ago cut away much of the stock, so it and a handful of shells would be enough.

Water went into a set of old soda bottles, these into a pair of bags made from an old sheet. The hardtack was carefully wrapped in a plastic sheet, then placed into one bag. A tattered blanket and another sheet of plastic would do for shelter or protection from the rain. Finally, he tossed in two cans of potted meat.

Packing the canned meat tripped another worry. For some unknown reason, Caruthers had left a huge stack of canned meat, canned potatoes and canned fruit with his other supplies, far more than Matt could possibility eat in one summer. He'd cached the surplus assuming they were for next summer. Even with the price of gasoline to transport supplies, it was still a wonder the old man would spend ahead by that much.

That night he'd looked over his maps. He could follow the long and winding dirt road, a track really. Three or four days later, he would reach the pavement. From there, he could try and hitch a ride into town. He could hike up and over the mountains and save the time, with the plus of springs that he knew would be along the way. Finally, he decided, he could hike over the foothills, then down onto a different paved road. Following that he would finally reach the intersection of two remote highways. There he knew he would find a gas station/cafe/motel and most importantly, a payphone. He placed four quarters and all of his cash into his wallet, then secured it with tape to ensure he would not arrive, literally, empty handed.

Leaving at the crack of dawn ensured that the hike uphill would at least start in the cool of the morning. Ordering the dogs back, twice, had hurt. He couldn't carry food and water for all of them. They would be fine; he'd left out enough food for them for more than two weeks. Nightfall found him near the ridge that marked the halfway point. In the light of the setting sun he found, not a cave, rather a large divot in the rocks. The gap was large enough for a pile of leaves and him. It made for a rude but comfortable bed for the night.

The sound of rain woke him, but just for a bit. Pulling the blanket a bit closer, he went back to sleep. When he woke, the rain was still falling, more a mist than real rain. Exactly the kind of weather he hated to walk through. He gave it another hour by his watch but the weather ran on its own time, not governed by mere mortals. He now regretted not bringing his pot. A cup of hot coffee would have been wonderful.

Accepting his fate, he put the blanket and plastic sheet over his head, a basic poncho, then his hat, and with his bags over one shoulder, walked on. Despite his precautions, the mist soon soaked him completely. He saw this as another lesson in the immutable facts of life. Walk long enough in the rain and you will get wet. He laughed at the thought, after all, how many lessons came so cheaply?

Before the day was half done, he was delighted to find a road, one that headed in the right direction. The area was riddled with old mines, prospects and other activity that had left a warren of roads all over the west side of the hills, now to his benefit. The road was in rough shape, unused for some time, but it was easier that pushing through brush or having to watch his every step quite so carefully, lest he twist an ankle on a loose rock.

He'd gone less than two miles when he saw the truck blocking the road. It was lopsided. One front tire was missing and the brake drum was sitting directly on the ground. He stopped and gave a shout. No sense in walking up on someone with no warning. A lot of folks out here were armed; many of those folks didn't deal real well with surprises.

After several shouts went unanswered, he walked up to the truck. He couldn't really tell how long it had been sitting there. The rain had washed away any telltale accumulation of dust. Looking in the window, he saw that it was empty. Empty, except for the obviously flat tire in the rear of the vehicle. "Did they have two flats and no way to repair them?" he wondered aloud. Shaking his head at the sheer stupidity, he pressed on down the road. Not his worry, since it was a newer vehicle, someone would be along to retrieve it, sometime.

At the next turn, he stopped again. Laid out before him was something so horrible, he couldn't sort it out for a time. It had been a camp, in the past. The camp held a tent, a tarp was strung up in the trees covering the tent, a small fire-pit and the usual clutter that so many took along when they left the city to 'go camping'. Only now, the tent was a burned tatter, the tarp scorched from the heat. In the front of it all was a body, sitting in a chair. The body had a weapon propped between its legs.

Matt had to sit to take it all in. He had no choice, it was all so - terrible. As he looked at the scene in detail, it became ever more horrific. Small bones were visible in the remains of the tent. Human bones.

It took some time before he stopped vomiting. He had to assume these people were the owners of the disabled truck, but why? Why would a broken truck promote...murder? Suicide? He went no closer, his tracks would wash away in the rain, but he wanted no trace that he'd even approached this...this...disaster. He would report it to the Sheriff, letting him worry about the specifics, All he wanted now was to be gone. How long it would take to clean his memory of the tableau was an open question.

Nightfall found him within sight of the paved road, much to his relief. The rain had stopped, and he was able to top off his water bottles from the water trapped on the top of the rocks that lay scattered across the landscape. In the morning, he left the blanket, rifle and other non-essentials cached on the side of the road. With one bag to hold his food and water, he pressed on toward the intersection and the civilization it represented.

Trudging down the road, in the middle of the oncoming traffic lane, he couldn't help but wonder about the poor souls he'd left in the hills. What level of despair could drive a person to commit such an act?

He'd hit bottom four years before. Divorced, children dead in an auto wreck with his ex, heavily in debt and his own life a drunken ruin; he'd fled to the hills to find a new start. Old man Caruthers had taken a chance on a broken down former drunk to herd his sheep. It was the lifeline he'd needed. But even in the depths of his own misery, he'd never considered, even remotely, anything so final or violent. It had taken years, but he was finally at peace with his own life, or at least as much as one could be with that history.

The sun was well past overhead when he walked up on the intersection. The utter lack of traffic was no concern, this far out in the boonies, the State Troopers made a pass every other day or so to discover and deal with any accidents or breakdowns. The other highway carried some tourist traffic, but real commerce stayed on the Interstate highway and it ran hundreds of miles to the north of this little junction in the vast middle of nowhere.

The building had a single vehicle parked under the shade by the gas pumps. Maybe he could beg a ride into Ely, a small town that was more than a little ways up the road. Otherwise, he would be forced to wait here until Caruthers came to collect him. He was more than one hundred meters away when the stench hit him. The odor was so intense, he involuntarily vomited.

The inside of the building was a charnel house. Filled with bloated bodies, death came so long ago that fluid was leaking on the floor. He retreated upwind to find breathable air.

"What in the Hell?" escaped his lips. Finally, after putting a bandana over his nose and mouth he staggered back into the stench to the pay phone. It was dead. No dial tone.

Back into the clean air, he took some time to think. "What in the Hell is going on?" he said. "Better yet, what's killed this bunch?" Coaxing a few drops of gasoline out of the pump nozzle onto his bandana allowed him to enter the building, rather than bolt at the door. The fumes covered enough of the stench to allow him to look for a bit longer. Four bodies sat at a table, and that table was covered in liquor bottles. Not cheap stuff he noted, but the best money could buy.

* * * * * *

Forcing himself to look closely, he could see no wounds, no cuts or evidence of trauma. The scene before him looked, for all the world, like these four decided to drink themselves to death. A newspaper was on the table but so soaked in gore, it was worthless to him. Back outside, he considered what the building held. He'd seen people kill themselves drinking pinklady, but that was a long and intensely painful path to take. Others he'd known drank themselves into a stupor, eventually dieing of malnutrition. More than once he'd come off of a binge to find himself covered in his own filth. That discovery was enough to finally force him into sobriety.

As he sat pondering the mystery, it struck him. No flies. The place should have been covered with a cloud of flies. Yet, none were to be seen. That was enough for him to decide to flee. He found a truck in the back of the building, filled the tanks with gasoline, adding a couple of jerry cans as well. He had no idea what the future held, but being forced to start walking again was the last thing he wanted, this far out in the sticks. He rummaged through the kitchen, taking some cans of food, a pot and utensils. He would wash the outside of the cans with boiling water, but he knew if some contagion had struck these people down, he was next. Just to cover himself, he left a long note explaining his actions and taped it to the unopened cash register.

He started driving east. He knew more towns and cities would lay in that direction. The first he arrived at was empty. Not a soul or body to be found. He also found few vehicles, so perhaps they had fled. The next village put that to a lie. Burned buildings lined the main street. As he walked around, he saw more than one bloated body, with several in more advanced stages of corruption. Again, no flies or other scavengers were to be seen on those bodies. The dogs and cats were another matter.

Several had been shot. Others, killed by unknown means, all were covered with flies and maggots. He drove on, the puzzle just growing. Had the world gone mad?

The sign came into view, on the side of the road just where it should. It marked the turnoff to a small ecclesiastical farm community. Normally closed to visitors, it represented his best chance to discover what had happened. The gate leading to the road was closed, as normal, but the sign at that gate was drastically different. Parking the truck on the roadside across from the gate, he shut off the engine. Stepping out, he walked up to the gate.

The normal polite warning that the road led to a closed community was painted over and a new set of text sat in its place. "STOP" the sign announced, "Enter and we will shoot to kill." That was different. The two bullet riddled and burned out vehicles next to the gate and the long trench across the access road put demonstrated fact behind the warning.

As he stood pondering what choices he had, the telephone rang. An outdoor phone had always been on the sign; the residents had never been unwilling to help. They just wanted their privacy. In the past, the phone had been there to ask for help, something he was in desperate need of right now.

He picked up the handset and put it to his ear. "Hello?"

The voice wasn't harsh, he could swear it was almost sad, but the message was the same. "Move on, Mister. You try to come in here and we will kill you. We can always seek forgiveness later." Click.

He flashed the hookset and put the handset back to his ear

The voice returned - "You that dumb, Mister? We aren't going to warn you again!"

"Before you hang up, will you answer one question for me?"

"That would be?"

"What happened?"

A long pause later - "What?"

"What happened? I've been herding sheep up in the Cave Lake area. My supplies didn't come in last week and all I've seen since I walked out is dead people."

"You have the flu anytime in the last three or four months?"

Now it was Matt's turn - "What?"

"Simple question. Did you have the flu anytime in the last three or four months?"

Matt had to think. "Well, I don't think it was the flu, but right after my supplies got dropped off, I was a bit under the weather. I'd spent the whole day walking in a cold rain, not quite a cold, certainly not the flu."

"When was this?"

"Ah. Nine weeks ago, give or take a day. I'd need to look at my journal."

The telephone spat out an obscenity. "You feel okay right now?"

"Yes. But I'd still like to know what happened."

"The Four Horsemen now ride the land, my friend. Death is everywhere."

"Okay, I can see that. I want to know what is killing everyone. Some disease?"

"Greed and playing at the work of the Almighty Himself."

"Which means?"

"NESH has killed everyone."

Matt took a deep breath. This was going to take a while; the last thing he wanted was for the man to hang up. "I'm sorry - NESH?"

"Hold on." The new voice was deeper, more mature. "James isn't quite up on all of this, Pilgrim. Neoplastic E-cadherin-mediated Substitution Hepatocellular virus. I can say that only because the last of the papers that came in had the information."

"Thank you. James was helpful but I asked what has killed everyone." Again, Matt was careful in what he said. This guy could hang up in an instant as before.

"You have been out of touch for some time then?"

"A little over four months. Been tending to sheep up in the mountains."

"I see. That's when it started to get bad. About a year ago Canadian and Australian researchers started to use genetically modified viruses to treat cancer. The Canadians used a variant of the smallpox virus, needless to say, that made the US Government most unhappy. In Oz, they focused on coxsackie virus variants - the virus that causes a cold. They had some early success, but many others were impatient. 'Rich Man's Medicine' they called it."

The voice gave up a deep sigh, "And like many things, greed got into it early on as well. Labs in India and China obtained sample virus strains. The viruses at the time were weak, barely able to attack cancer weakened cells. May the Lord have mercy on us; the Chinese announced a new, self-replicating virus for use in cancer treatment."

Matt had to ask. "This was bad because?"

"Because in the earlier work, the virus strains were weak and took a lot of care to replicate. The Chinese version could be ground out using mass production methods like used for making flu vaccines. Cheaply and in mass quantity."

"Did it work?"

"All too well, Pilgrim. It cured a wide variety of common cancers, and of course, the Chinese were happy to proclaim that not only that the East was Red, so was medicine. They flooded the world with their super virus. If you had a loved one with terminal cancer, who wouldn't want to use it for a cure? They had a ready market." He paused, "Even here."

"When did the trouble start?"

"I really can't say. The early deaths were considered an anomaly. Others may have been hidden. The first real wave hit in Shanquanxiang. The entire city died in two days. The Chinese Government managed to hide that for some time, but it was already too late."

"I'm sorry, Cousin, I just don't understand."

"When first exposed to the virus, the person has mild flu like symptoms, and all cancer cells are killed. It truly is a cure. That's Stage One. Stage Two the person feels fine and exhibits no symptoms." He heard a paper rustle, the man was reading from something. "The trouble is that the virus is still active. Stage Three starts when some unknown environmental trigger sets off the virus and it starts killing all of the cells in the body. Supposedly painless, until the brain ceases to function. I take it you have seen the final results."

His barely whispered "Yes" left no doubt as to his witness.

"The last twist to this tale of perdition, many have survived. The virus never triggers a Stage Three attack - it dies out in the host. Perhaps the Chinese quality control or lack thereof caused a minor mutation. Up to now, it seems mostly women have been found to be virus free after Stage Two. Maybe as much as ten percent of a population lives. And therein lies your death sentence."

"How's that? I'm still here, assuming my being sick earlier was an infection."

"You may never experience a Stage Thee attack, but you still carry the virus. It doesn't seem to die out in men." He continued, "The virus can be transmitted by touch, by breathing, or an exchange of fluids. You are a walking Typhoid Mary. There is no known way to kill the virus that doesn't kill the host at the same time.

"What in the hell?"

"The Indians discovered this and called the Chinese virus an act of war. The nukes followed three minutes later. It seems we added to that conflagration when a crew of a Trident sub discovered the virus was on board. Faced with a use it or lose it situation, they launched the entire compliment of their missiles. Between the bombs and the virus, China no longer exists as a Nation." Silence filled the line.

Finally Matt said, "Can it get any worse?"

"It can and does. In a rare few individuals, the virus doesn't kill. At least, not right away. Some become the walking dead, like in those horror movies - Zombies.

"Any clean community, such as ours, will shoot you, or anyone moving, on sight. No matter your condition. Nothing personal, it's the only way we know of to ensure our own safety. There are other survivors; we hear them on the radio all the time. Just exactly where they are, I cannot say. We don't talk with them for fear of revealing ourselves." He paused.

Matt was quick to say "No need to shoot me, I've no reason to tell of your little city. You've been kind enough to lay this all out and I'm not an ungrateful man. You have my word on this."

The silence continued to stretch on. "You may be sincere, Pilgrim. But I'd rather make it in your interest to stay silent. We have a need for someone that can move about without fear, we are prepared to do business with you."

"That would be?"

"For the near future, we will need motor fuel, for example. You will need fresh food."

"I see. I believe you are correct, Cousin. I'll leave to get some now, so you will be ready for the winter."

"Excellent. We look forward to doing business with you for a long time..."

As he drove away, Matt was certain of only one thing. This place would have to pray for Divine help, they'd get none from him. There really was only one question before him.



* * * * * *

Well, Dear Reader. Matt is a man who has lost everything, his marriage, children, wife, job, home, even his dignity - everything. Now sober for four years, and very much used to living by himself, what will Matt do?



The real question here, of course is -- "What would you do?"



Why do I ask, you say?



Because this is coming and maybe sooner than you might think...



The use of a virus based cancer cure is a real thing. See

http://www.ctv.ca/CTVNews/TopStories/20 ... wa-110831/
http://www.smh.com.au/technology/sci-te ... 1xdtf.html







Afterword for The Cure





Yes, this story is based in real and ongoing Science. Even as you read this, men in lab coats are fiddling with smallpox virus. Yes, I said smallpox, in an effort to find a cure for cancer. They have had some success. The scientists are working to make this 'cure' more universal. It is a noble cause.

Let's just hope they don't have any lab accidents, shall we?

 

It is no longer a story, there are thousands of places in the world, colleges, universities, some high schools, research labs, some hospitals, military labs, crop research labs, medical research labs, most dna labs, etc that at will can splice genes and create only God knows what kind of disease. It may be as simple as irradiating a bacteria and filtering the results or as deliberate as taking a known disease, Typhoid or smallpox, increasing its resistance to treatment and disseminating it. The only thing limiting it to this point is it is as dangerous to those releasing it as it is to its targets. ISIS or some other fundamentalist group may not consider that to be a problem or it may well be some very intelligent mad man. Don't look good for the long run. Even more likely to be the use of wheat rust, hog cholera, hoof and mouth disease, etc to destroy our food supply.

 

@DKR

Your story is very well written. If it had been a novel I'd have missed dinner. I'm sure I would enjoy more of your work if it turned up in, say, the Reading Room.

(Hint, hint!)

 

https://www.amazon.com/D.K.-Richardson/e/B005JT4QP2
All my books are found here. Each has a large sample section....

 

Thank you for many pleasant hours reading your works, read the Cure about 2014 in another forum before it was taken down when published. Was an excellent short story and well worth reading.

 

I had hoped that it might have been scary enough to cause a fuss. Apparently - it was not.

 

DKR,you were preaching to the choir, those of us that read it were already sufficiently frightened or we would not have been reading it on that forum, the sheeple will mill around in circles until they die and wonder what happened as a last thought. Please continue the good fight as the score at the moment is Lions 50, Christians 0, and the crowd is screaming for more Christians. Some things never change. Again thank you, Jerry Young, Fleataxi, and all the rest of the great writers who encourage us, educate us, and make us realize that we are not alone in this world. Your duties seem to mirror those of the recently departed Billy Graham, he may of not changed anything, but if you didn't change, it was not because he hadn't tried to lead you down the right path.

 

Is THIS what is referred to as Disease X (By the W.H.O), this strain has a 38% + mortality rate:

Disease X: What is Disease X? Is deadly Chinese Bird flu disease X?

 

The good thing about ebola is its only highly contagious if you have no sanitation, are really stupid and have fanatical religious motivation to quickly and properly handle dead bodies in accordance with the 1400 year old book of the murdering pedophile who shalt not be named.

 

Disease X has a lot of competition...

Zika was in the news last summer but when put into a larger perspective....
While Zika can make someone very ill and is especially harmful to unborn babies, it doesn't come close to being a slate wiper. On the other hand, these 10 viral diseases could potentially cause a pandemic capable of killing millions, if not billions of people, given the right conditions.

1. Marburg Virus

First identified in 1967, Marburg causes hemorrhagic fever, rapid organ failure, shock and death within several days of the virus infecting the body. During an outbreak in the late 1990s in the Democratic Republic of Congo, eight out of 10 people contracting Marburg died. Along with Ebola, Marburg is considered one of the deadliest viral slate wipers known.

2. Ebola virus

A hemorrhagic fever disease spread by contact with bodily fluids, Ebola presents a fatality rate between 50 and 80 percent, depending on the quality of supportive care received by infected individuals. Release of Ebola or Marburg into a Western urban population could quite possibly kill millions of people in less than one month.

3. HIV

Since the early 1980s, HIV has killed an estimated 40 million people and continues to infect hundreds of thousands of people every year. Although we have antiviral drugs that help HIV-infected people live much longer than in the past, these drugs are not readily available in developing countries, such as sub-Saharan Africa, where one in 20 adults are thought to be HIV-positive.

4. Smallpox

Highly contagious and often fatal without proper supportive care, smallpox continues to emerge periodically in across the world, although it was declared extinct by the WHO many years ago. Between 1900 and 1990, smallpox killed over 300 million people. Those who didn't die were frequently left blind, crippled or both.

5. Influenza

Scientists say that the possibility of a powerful, new flu strain unleashing itself on global populations is very real and all too probable in the future. Flu viruses are airborne viruses spreading quickly when infected individuals sneeze or cough around others.

6. Dengue Hemorrhagic Fever

Transmitted to humans via infected mosquitoes, dengue hemorrhagic fever is the fatal form of dengue fever, causing symptoms similar to Ebola and Marburg. With increasing global temperatures creating fertile breeding grounds for mosquitos, a DHF pandemic is an all-too-real possibility.

7. Viral Pneumonia

Because viral pneumonia eradicates lung cells and incites a strong immune system response that damages lungs even further, an outbreak of viral pneumonia could substantially decimate millions of people in a short amount of time.

8. Lassa Fever

Lassa is a hemorrhagic fever presenting high fatality rates. Transmitted by infected rat urine, Lassa fever is currently endemic to West African countries. However, objects contaminated with rat urine could find their way out of West Africa and potentially cause large outbreaks of Lassa in other parts of the world.

9. Viral Gastroenteritis

A intestinal infection indicated by nausea, vomiting, watery diarrhea and fever, viral gastroenteritis (stomach flu) can be deadly to children, older adults and people with weak immune systems.

10. Middle Eastern Respiratory Syndrome

MERS is an acute respiratory infection causing high fever and difficulty breathing. People infected with the MERS coronavirus often suffer complications due to pneumonia and kidney failure. Death can occur within two weeks of contracting the virus.

We can fight bacterial diseases fairly well with antibiotics. However, antiviral medications are scarce and often ineffective simply because viruses "take up housekeeping" in host cells. In other words, any medication that kills viruses will also kill the same cells responsible for keeping an organism alive.

Be safe out there people....

 

Obviously prevention is the best medicine , however I have learned to make and use colloidal silver .
I have seen it perform in both man and beast ,always positively.
Bacteria cannot become immune , it does not age,
Except freezing and distillation it is impervious to temperatures stored any where you want.

 

Right, it's just a place holder. the bottom line is some sort of pandemic will happen but since we don't have wizards or psychics we don't know what it will be or when or where it will start. The most likely given virulence and incubation period and fast global travel is some strain of influenza. The best you can do is try to stay healthy, know where your food comes from and get vaccinated.

 

no vaccinations at all? not even tetanus?

 

Do you have a source for that? because the CDC disagrees with you
Smallpox Surveillance -- Worldwide

 

Wow.
I don't get the annual flu vaccine because I already have a degenerative neurological disease which is a relative contraindication because of my increased risk of Guillain Barre. But I got most of the others. I think if you either are allergic to a lot of antibiotics, especially those used for gram negative infections, or expect to not have those antibiotics available in a SHTF scenario, you ought to consider at least Pneumovax, Meningitis and Tetanus vaccines, along with the normal childhood vaccines for children. However, obviously that will be up to you.

Addendum: There are region specific vaccines that people should consider. My comment above assumed US and Canada

 

I get poked by some rusty piece of junk almost monthly. So natural immunity to tetanus.

Don't get the flu vaccine because in recent years it hasn't been working and it almost always makes me sick with cold like symptoms for up to a week.

For the other stuff yeah, I'm not getting taken out by some easy preventable sickness.