Dr. Bonnie MacLean
Once more you looked at the sample through the microscope. Once more you saw nothing to encourage any hope of a cure. Hell, you couldn’t even identify the virus, let alone begin work on an antiviral to deal with it.
No matter how often you checked, you observed the same cell multiplication as before. Whatever the virus was it not only destroyed healthy cells at an extraordinary rate, but replaced those cells with multiples of…something that you don’t recognise. It was being labelled as an unknown strain of influenza, and sure it had the trademark cough and fever of the flu virus, but there the similarities stopped. That was just the initial symptoms, first there was a cough and chills, then the cough became more intense and the chills turned to a raging fever which no matter what you did just increased.
Eventually the patient died from massive haemorrhaging. Like the Ebola virus the insides just seemed to liquefy, though it most certainly wasn’t the Ebola virus or any derivative strain. One thing that was certain was that this virus had a 100% mortality rate, there was no recovery if you caught it you died, and its infection rate was unbelievable it spread faster than the common cold and if anything was even more infectious.
With the back of your hand you wipe your itching, tired eyes. Turning your head slightly you glance at the wall clock, it reads 3:38pm, you smile at 4:00pm you begin your shift on the wards until midnight when you get to go home for a few hours rest prior to beginning all over again at 06:00am tomorrow. The ‘influenza’ outbreak and the rapidity of its spread had overcome the speed of the cities medical responses which had led to its medical staff working long hours just in an attempt to keep their heads above water. Still at least your sister might be home when you got there ready to give you the latest on her on off relationship with Steve. Gee that was something to look forward too.
Coffee, your head screams, and you continue your turn towards the coffee pot on the desk; empty, damn wouldn’t you believe it. You become aware of being watched and from behind the glass observation panel of the isolation room, the intern Pete Maxwell grins and does that thing with his eyes. Jeez, you think, he has really drawn the short straw today having the job of harvesting the latest sample from a recently desceased female. At least they’d given her the dignity of having a sheet pulled over her face; dignity in death, but death from this virus didn’t allow dignity. There wasn’t a lot of dignity in coughing up your insides in a stream of frothing blood.
You take several steps to the desk and pick up the empty coffee pot and wave it towards the intern while mouthing “I’m getting a refill”. He nods and it is that movement which draws your attention to the empty bed where a blood stained sheet has been tossed in a heap. For a moment you are transfixed, where the…what the?
Then you spot her. Naked and covered in black blood the subject, the dead subject, is about three paces behind the unaware intern. Pete continues smiling and doing that thing with his eyes while just behind him a dead person walks disjointedly toward him, her hands out and fingers curled into grasping claws…