The Infected Dead (Book 4): Exist For Now

by Howard, Bob

  “Shouldn’t you be wearing a biohazard suit in there?”

  It was Nurse Brand, the Head Nurse for the surgical unit. She was moving in the same direction as everyone else.

  “We’ve already determined the means of transmission,” he said. “It’s not airborne, and all indications are that it’s caused by being bitten.”

  “If that’s true,” she said, “then try to explain the patient who died in surgery this morning. He was pronounced dead at 0900 hours, and he was trying to sit up and bite the surgical staff at 0915 hours. He’s strapped to a bed in recovery, and he has no visible bite marks.”

  Doctor Sellers didn’t hear another word that was said on the way to the conference room. All he could think about was what Nurse Brand had told him. If the means of transmission was from being bitten, then how had the patient become infected? He told himself he would need to study the lab results of the patient that were from tests done before the surgery.

  The large conference room was crowded with mostly staff members wearing white lab coats, but there were a few in blue scrubs sprinkled throughout the crowd. Most of the faces were tired looking, and absolutely no one was smiling. It was standing room only around the large conference table, but on this occasion most of the staff felt like standing.

  The Medical Director called for everyone to give him their attention, and he quickly launched into the description of the pandemic that was sweeping across the world. His report was bleak. Every major city in the world had been overcome by an unidentified viral outbreak that caused victims to die quickly, only to regain some semblance of animation and begin attacking people who had not yet been bitten.

  There wasn’t a single reported case of a reanimated person trying to bite another person who had died from a bite. They were only drawn to new victims. This had led some infectious disease specialists to assume the reanimated dead were being driven to expedite the spread of the virus, which made them believe the virus recognized itself. An Italian doctor had made the international news quickly when she had given it a name. She had called it the Pensando Virus, which means the Thinking Virus.

  Her only explanation for how it could think was pure speculation that the victim’s brain functions were reanimated only enough to allow the victim to detect other victims. She was widely criticized because thinking implied consciousness, but the term caught on throughout the world. At least the part about it being an infection was accepted as common knowledge.

  The Medical Director explained to the assembled doctors and nurses that the Mercy Mission ship had left Cameroon in order to be more useful in combating the disease. They had received a request to assist an American Navy carrier group that had managed to leave port with substantial resources and personnel. The rendezvous point would be somewhere off the east coast of the United States, and their goal was to provide both care and research capabilities. The Director assured them that they were not being conscripted into military service, and they would play a vital role in identifying and combating the virus.

  He opened the floor for questions, and the most prevalent was whether or not the staff members could contact their families. The ship’s Captain had been watching the Medical Director give his presentation of the problem, and it was immediately obvious to him that many of the medical staff were not seeing the big picture. Captain Harold Abbott, a former officer in the British Royal Navy stepped forward and asked for quiet. He was known to be fair but firm, and the room went quiet again.

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” he began, “we are faced with an event of unprecedented proportions. I do not wish to appear uncaring about your families and loved ones, but reports from all corners of the world indicate there was no time for the civilian population of the world to prepare for these events. The likelihood of survivors is slim. We will rendezvous with the American task force to render whatever assistance we can, but any attempts to contact your families would be futile.”

  There was a general protest from the assembled staff, but the Captain held his right hand in the air, and the room went quiet again.

  “The US Navy has informed me there will be missions to American cities in search of survivors. As they are recovered, they will be brought to safety. The military also plans to establish safe zones on the coast, fortify them, and then begin rebuilding. You will be reunited with loved ones if they are recovered, but for the time being, we have a job to do. I think you will find that your work will help you to pass the time. So, please return to your duties, and let’s begin doing what a hospital ship does best.”

  When the Captain and Medical Director left the room, the doctors and nurses felt like they didn’t know what to do first. They gradually began to file out of the conference rooms and return to their respective duty stations.

  Doctor Sellers arrived at the quarantine unit behind several other doctors and nurses who had already begun tending to the bite victims. As the supervisor of this particular unit, he was prone to observe the staff as they went about their assignments, but he knew he needed to be with them as they encountered the most deadly disease they had ever tried to treat. Even the Ebola cases they had treated had a better chance of survival than the bite victims.

  “Wayne, take a look at this bite wound.”

  It was one of his senior staff who had addressed him. The Nigerian doctor who had been educated in the United Kingdom was known as one of the best infectious disease doctors in the world, which meant he was in the right place to be helping to fight the disease.

  Doctor Sellers pulled on a mask and gloves and entered the quarantine tent where Doctor Nkrumah was holding the arm of one of the victims. He had a bright light shining into the wound so they could see the surrounding tissue better. Doctor Sellers studied the bite, but he couldn’t see anything unusual about it. It was ragged and looked like the bite left by any carnivore that was using incisors to tear away flesh before chewing it with molars.

  “I don’t see anything unique about it. Do you?” he asked.

  Doctor Nkrumah rotated it slightly under the light and then irrigated the wound. The liquid ran off the arm into a pan, and a nurse immediately pulled it away so the liquid could be examined more closely for whatever pathogens might be involved with this strange virus. She had already removed some tissue and prepared a culture to see if they could grow the virus. Sophisticated lab equipment was trying to isolate the virus from the human cells so they could begin testing to see what would kill the virus without killing the host.

  Doctor Sellers thought he saw a change happening in the bite. It was still ragged and ugly, but it looked different. He put a magnifying glass over it and saw the difference. The tissue around the edges of the bite didn’t heal, but they didn’t look damaged. It was almost as if the wound could be stitched. It would heal and leave a scar, but it would heal. The problem was, the host would be dead long before the wound healed.

  Nkrumah said, “This virus is only intended to destroy brain cells, and not just any brain cells. Just the cells involved with higher functions, such as reasoning and thought.”

  “I don’t understand,” said Doctor Sellers. “How do the organs and the muscles keep working? It doesn’t appear that the heart needs oxygenated blood pumping to the rest of the body, and the brain cells that survive don’t need it either.”

  Both doctors had the same idea at the exact same moment and shared a look of disbelief and horror.

  Doctor Sellers said, “The virus produces something that substitutes for all of the body fluids, hormones, and enzymes?”

  “And the substitutes are produced in the portion of the brain that is left functioning after death,” said Nkrumah. “That’s why it takes an injury to the head to kill them.”

  The patient on the table began to pull at his restraints and snap his teeth at the doctors. There was no concern for their safety, but they backed away out of reflex.

  Doctor Sellers said, “There is nothing more we can do for him, but there is much more he can do for us. We need to study
the functioning portion of his brain so we can see how and where the substitutes are being manufactured.”

  The patient was removed to a surgical suite while Sellers and Nkrumah examined each of the remaining patients in the quarantine section. They found one that was snapping at the nurse but had no visible bite marks. They checked for scratches, insect bites, and signs of irritation in the airways and nose, but there was nothing. The discouraging result of their examinations was that there had to be another method of transmission, and they couldn’t interview the patients to see what they may have had in common.

  Outside the quarantine tent they both took off their masks and gloves and washed in sinks filled with hot, soapy water and chlorine bleach. They both needed rest, but they were puzzled by their patient who hadn’t been bitten. He had also been removed to a surgical suite to have his brain removed and compared with the brain of the man who had been bitten. Before going to their cabins for some rest, they decided to stop at the galley to talk over the events of the day.

  The galley of the Mercy Mission ship had always been the favorite place of the medical staff to socialize. There were occasional celebratory dinners that featured a special wine or champagne, but for the most part, the staff didn’t drink. Coffee was usually given a pass on days when surgery was performed, but it was in good supply when the doctors and nurses were working on a problem.

  Today was a coffee day. The medical teams that were involved with the various aspects of the ship’s mission were sitting in small groups around the galley trying to come up with answers. There were plenty of theories, but few of them were based in fact.

  Doctor Sellers and Doctor Nkrumah sat down heavily into their chairs with big cups of coffee. Neither one spoke for a while as they sat with their heads resting on their hands. Both were experts, but both felt like it was their first day of medical school.

  Other doctors and nurses passed their table, saw the far away looks on their faces, and then moved on. They knew the pair were as lost in thought as some of the other doctors who sat alone or in small groups. Entire tables of medical staff sat quietly without saying a word.

  “We’re supposed to be the ones with the answers,” said Sellers. “Everyone else is waiting for us to give them some kind of hope, but the most I can come up with is that there has to be a connection between the patients who have been bitten and the ones that haven’t been.”

  “I have an idea,” said Nkrumah, “but I can’t seem to put my finger on it. There’s something bothering me, but I don’t know what it is.”

  The galley crew saw that the medical staff was gathering in the galley in larger than normal numbers, so the ever accommodating ship’s cooks began setting up an array of meals. The Captain had explained to the cooks long ago that the doctors and nurses were somewhat unpredictable about meals. Sometimes the galley was crowded as a meal was being served, and sometimes it was empty. Sometimes it was crowded, like tonight, but no one ate the meals that were prepared. The cooks felt like this was going to be one of those nights when they would put on a display of their skills, but the efforts would be largely ignored.

  They were surprised when people began lining up at the serving area and picking out meals rather than just refilling their coffee cups. The cooks always felt good about serving meals that met with widespread approval, so they were replacing the food as quickly as it was eaten. The most popular choices on this evening were the wide variety of seafoods, and Doctor Nkrumah found himself to be a bit fascinated by the number of people who had an appetite. As a matter of fact, he found himself going to the line without giving it much thought.

  Doctor Sellers kept sipping at his coffee as he watched his friend walk over to the serving line and pick up a tray. It crossed his mind that he wasn’t hungry enough to eat, but the conversations at the other tables began to take on a more spirited tone, and it occurred to him that he might be able to think more clearly on a full stomach rather than a full dose of caffeine.

  Nkrumah was several people ahead of him as Sellers got in line, and he focused on the array of choices. The cooks really knew how to make everything look appetizing, so he felt like he was getting more than he should, but he was carrying a full tray of food to the table in only minutes.

  As he sat down he said, “I feel like such a pig for getting so much, but everything looked so good.”

  Doctor Nkrumah laughed when he looked up from his own tray. He said, “If you’re a pig, then we have something in common.” His tray looked just like Sellers’.

  Doctor Sellers was just starting to put his fork in his mouth when he realized Nkrumah was staring at him. Actually, he was staring at his plate.

  “We chose the same meals,” said Nkrumah.

  Given the variety of foods on the serving line, it was a bit odd that they had chosen exactly the same items, but it wasn’t exactly the food that Nkrumah was thinking of. It was one of the things they couldn’t ask their dead patients who had been taken away to have their brains examined.

  “What had the dead patients been eating?” he asked Doctor Sellers.

  The question made Doctor Sellers pause with his fork in front of his face.

  “The food chain?” asked Doctor Sellers.

  “Exactly. If we interviewed them, we would probably find they had eaten different meals in the last days or weeks, but at some point in time, they ate the same thing. This virus must be in the food chain. They might only be able to spread it by biting someone else, but eating something that possibly ate someone else who had the infection could be the other vector.”

  Both doctors found themselves examining their plates of food. They were particularly fixated upon one of the cook’s favorite recipes, African ghost crab minced with mangrove oysters.

  Doctor Sellers and Doctor Nkrumah both put their forks down, stared at each other, and then began looking at all of the other tables where the diners were enjoying their meals as they talked. The world was coming to an end, but they were at least for now enjoying a good meal.

  “I only have one question,” said Doctor Sellers, “how long has it been in the food chain.”

  “Long enough for all of us to have been exposed,” said Nkrumah.

  ******

  The labs on the Mercy Mission ship didn’t have the view enjoyed by the medical personnel on the upper decks, but the lab techs who worked there were happy with the modern equipment. Charitable donors who kept the Mercy Mission ships afloat were more than generous, and when doctors wanted answers, they were usually able to give them everything they needed.

  The request from Doctor Nkrumah and Doctor Sellers to begin analyzing stomach contents of bite victims as well as non-bite victims wasn’t so strange that it caused any speculation, but the manner in which the request was delivered was a bit odd. Both doctors appeared to be almost excited about what they would learn from such tests.

  When they burst into the lab together, they looked like they had run to the lab, and when they were informed that stomach contents had already been analyzed, they looked like they had won the lottery. Altogether, there had been twelve autopsies, and the results were complete with the exception of the two that just arrived. The lab techs handed over the files, and the doctors rushed out as they were already thumbing through the pages to the part they wanted to read.

  By the time they arrived back at the quarantine ward, they had what they needed. The autopsies of all of the victims contained no surprises. Their diets had been similar, because the mangrove oysters in particular were very common. They were smaller than oysters found in the waters along the coast of North America, but they were plentiful. As for the ghost crabs, they were popular among the people of Cameroon for making broth for soups. They didn’t have as much meat on them as blue crabs, but they were big enough to supplement a stew. They also did what any crab would do, and that was to eat anything that fell into the ocean and died. They weren’t finding food to be scarce in the last few days.

  The last few pages of each autopsy gave a
summary of the findings followed by a description of disposal of the remains. On a ship, the most expedient method of disposal was to drop the remains overboard.

  “Now it’s your turn to speculate. How long do you think this virus has been in the food chain?” asked Doctor Nkrumah.

  “When you consider the onset of the attacks, both the frequency and the rapid spread once they started biting people, it could have been a recent phenomenon, but it’s such a virulent viral strain that it didn’t take long for it to spread.”

  Doctor Nkrumah opened a desk drawer and pulled out a calculator as he explained what he was thinking.

  “About one hundred and fifty-two thousand people die every day,” he said. “If no one is born to replace them, it would take almost fifty-thousand days for the Earth to run out of people, but this virus is moving so fast, what if the death rate is faster than the birth rate to such an extreme that we start running out of people?”

  “You’re referring to a saturation of the food chain that causes the virus to propagate faster than people,” said Doctor Sellers.

  “What if the food chain reached a saturation point when there were so many people who had eaten food containing the virus, that something triggered the virus to begin propagating? In other words, it contaminated everything first, and then it began to spread.”

  Doctor Sellers thought about what his friend might be saying, understanding that he wasn’t talking about a normal virus, and he wasn’t just talking about contaminated food. He was talking about a contaminated environment. The entire planet was contaminated by this virus, and it had been dormant until something caused it to become active. Since practically everything people ate was tied together in the food chain, there was only one thing he could think of that could have triggered the virus to cause people to start coming back from the dead and biting other people.