The Jakarta Pandemic

by Steven Konkoly

  Alex finished the last four pull-ups of his pyramid exercise routine and stared out at the sunrise through the northeastern window of their finished attic. The low horizon sky held a scattered pattern of wispy clouds that reflected a deep burnt orange color from the still hidden sun. A deep blue and violet sky towered over the clouds, still holding on to the brightest stars in the eastern sky.

  He stretched for about five minutes and then headed downstairs to see if Kate was back from her morning walk. He detected no activity in the bathroom, which was usually her first stop after returning.

  He walked back down the main hallway of the second floor and headed toward their office to check some of the internet news sites before cleaning up. He looked out of the double window and saw Kate slowly walking down the street. She stopped in front of the Carters’ house and walked up the driveway to pet their chocolate lab, Kelso. Kelso enjoyed the full range of the half-acre lot, cut off from the rest of the world by an electric fence.

  Occasionally, Kelso managed to escape his electric prison, and inevitably wound up in the Fletchers’ backyard, lavished with Milk Bones and other treats.

  I’m pretty sure we are his first and only stop during an escape.

  Sometimes, the kids just let him in the house to hang out, and he was convinced that Kate and the kids just might steal a dog if they didn’t get one of their own soon.

  We’ll get another when everyone is truly ready.

  Just over a year before, the Fletchers had lost their yellow lab to a tragic accident at a local dog park. Alex stared out at a patch of grass across the street.

  When his mind drifted back into his office, he noticed Kate standing in their front yard, waving up at him and looking frustrated. He wondered how long she had been trying to get his attention. Drifted out again. He shifted his stance and met her eyes, returning the wave. She still stared at him strangely. He opened the window and felt the warm air envelop him.

  Another beautiful day.

  “Hey, honey. Nice out, huh?” he yelled through the screen.

  “Very nice. Another gift before the winter buries us. What were you staring at up there?”

  “Nothing, just thinking about something,” he said.

  “You must have been thinking really hard, you’ve been staring out of the window for over five minutes.”

  “Nothing much. I’m just tired.” She won’t buy that one.

  “All right,” she said.

  Definitely didn’t buy it. I’ll get a PTSD lecture within the next twenty-four hours. Guaranteed.

  Kate started walking toward the mudroom, and he kept watching her. He loved her more than anything. Seeing her shattered and in tears at the dog park was the worst moment of his life. He realized that he was squeezing the windowsill, both of his forearm muscles flexed, and eased his grip as Kate drifted from his view.

  Alex turned around and walked across the office to the closet. He opened the door and pulled open the top drawer of a file cabinet, locating a brown hanging file marked “Checklists” and removing the folder inside. The folder held a few different checklists, specifically created for different emergencies or contingencies. He thumbed through them, seeing one for “Nor’easter” and another for “Coastal Flooding.” He finally found the “Pandemic” checklist.

  He took two copies out of the folder, replaced the folder in the cabinet, and walked back to the desk and sat down. Before glancing at the checklist, he shook the computer mouse to jar his computer out of standby mode. The flat-screen monitor jumped to life and displayed a family picture taken on a beach in Mexico. He took a close look at the list.

  -Call Dead River to fill up oil tanks and propane. Need to do this anyway.

  -Fill up cars. We’ll keep them filled.

  -Fill up all fuel canisters. Next time at gas station.

  -Inspect solar power system. Done.

  -Inspect stockpile and fill in any gaps. Done.

  -Test walkie-talkies. I’m sure they’re fine.

  -Test generator. I’m sure it works.

  -Withdraw all cash from checking and savings accounts. Let’s not get crazy.

  -Borrow from 401K to get maximum amount of cash. Overkill.

  -Trade non-retirement investments for gold-backed funds or bonds. Paranoia.

  -Contact schools. Done.

  He jotted a few notes onto the checklist and got up to go take a shower. He heard Kate fumbling around in the kitchen on his way past the stairs.

  **

  Alex wandered down the stairs to find Kate pouring coffee into a dark blue mug. She looked up at him and smiled. He could hear the Morning View on in the kitchen.

  “Good workout?” she asked.

  “Not bad at all. I actually went for a run earlier, too. It’s still pretty warm out. Hey, I have to hide in my office again for a teleconference at eight. This one should be really interesting.” He winced. He walked up to Kate and kissed her.

  “Have you transmitted the nuclear bomb to Ted yet?” she asked with a devilish smile.

  “Not yet. I was thinking about hooking my computer back up on Tuesday. I may just do it today and get it over with. He’s going to flip out. Anything good on the Morning View?” he asked, looking up at the TV screen. Christ, another missing kid in the D.C. area?

  “Not really. Still no word from the Chinese, our carriers are converging on the region, and Asia is crawling with the flu.”

  “Yeah, I checked. The numbers have skyrocketed, and Europe is exploding, too. It’s gonna be the same here in about a week,” he said and grabbed a tall glass from the cabinet above the coffeemaker.

  “That’s what they said. Not about the U.S. though,” she said.

  “They didn’t mention cases in the U.S?”

  “Oh no, they definitely said over a thousand cases nationwide. Confirmed.”

  “That sounds conservative. The ISPAC estimates the number of cases in the U.S. could hit 20,000 by the end of the week, based on all of their variables and that kind of shit,” Alex said, waving his right hand above his head.

  “20,000? Did they give their estimate for the Jakarta flu’s basic reproductive number?” she asked him, opening the refrigerator.

  “Yeah, initially they set it around four, but they took pains to mention that this number fluctuates hourly in their projections, and that it may turn out to be higher.”

  “Infectious about seven to ten…” her voice trailed off. Kate turned around from the open refrigerator and looked upward. Calculating. She responded to mathematical or statistical challenges like a deep-programmed Cold War mole, suddenly activated by a trigger phrase and trapped in a computational trance until released by the answer. Within a few seconds, she broke the spell and looked at Alex.

  “Based on four as an average, the U.S. will hit roughly a million cases around November 20th. If the case fatality rate is similar to what they are seeing in China, we could be looking at close to two hundred thousand deaths.”

  “Three weeks from now,” he added dryly. “Hey, did Ryan roll down? I thought I heard him rummaging around down here earlier.”

  “Yeah, he was down here pouring some cereal. He forgot about our no school policy. He made a beeline back up to his room when I reminded him.” She laughed, nodding at the half-filled cereal bowl.

  “I don’t think we’ll get much resistance from him right now. Emily on the other hand…I don’t know,” he said.

  “She can be pretty tough to deal with.”

  He smirked. “I wonder where she gets that?”

  “That’s why you love me so much,” she countered, bending over to pull the toaster out of a drawer in the island.

  “Among other things,” he said and grabbed her from behind, pressing his body against hers.

  “You bad boy. Why do you always sex me up in the kitchen?” Kate stood up and nervously looked over at the stairs.

  “Probably because you bend over a lot in the kitchen. I can’t help it.”

  “Yeah, well, you better ma
ke sure the kids don’t see you. I don’t feel like explaining it to either of them, especially Ryan.”

  “No kidding,” he agreed.

  “So, what’s the plan for today?” she asked.

  “Some breakfast, teleconference, then I was thinking maybe we could all take a bike ride to the beach. Get everyone out of the house,” Alex said.

  “Sounds nice.”

  “We should make the best of the weather. Some Canadian air is coming our way toward the end of the week and another storm. The party’s over.”

  “I would suggest we go out for lunch, but I guess that wouldn’t be a great idea. Right?”

  “I was thinking the same thing, but I don’t know. I don’t think we should go anywhere around people, for any reason,” he said.

  **

  Alex sat in his office, checking his personal email, a Bluetooth earpiece resting in his right ear blaring intolerably optimistic music, as he waited for the rest of his sales district to join the teleconference. He heard a double beep, which indicated that someone had joined. He thought he heard Dave from Portsmouth mumble something.

  “Is that you, Dave? It’s Alex.”

  “Yours truly,” Dave replied.

  I wonder if he’s still working.

  Dave had a reputation as being slightly less industrious than the rest, and certainly more cynical.

  “Hi, Alex. How are things up in Portland?”

  Sounds like Karen.

  “Pretty crazy. How about Concord?” he guessed.

  “Same thing. All the stores are jammed. I finally got through Hannigan’s yesterday.”

  “Any flu cases?” he pressed.

  “Something like a hundred cases since Saturday. I tried to get in to see some of the infectious disease people at Concord Hospital earlier this morning, but they’re not letting in drug reps.”

  I’m sitting here in sweat pants and a T-shirt, and she’s already out there trying to get herself exposed to the Jakarta flu.

  “You probably don’t want to be anywhere near an E.R., or any hospital for that matter. It’s not worth it,” Alex cautioned.

  “That’s a no shitter,” Dave said.

  “What do you mean?” Karen asked blandly.

  Is she kidding?

  “Hey, guys, it’s Cheryl. Who’s on?”

  Two representatives covered each of the five geographic sales areas. Portsmouth-Southern New Hampshire, Concord-Northern New Hampshire, Portland-Southern Maine, Augusta-Central Maine and Bangor-Northern Maine. Everyone answered except for Ted. He heard another double beep.

  Here’s the man of the hour.

  “Good morning, team. Let’s make sure everyone is here,” Ted said, who then conducted a roll call. A few of his colleagues sounded excited to be on the teleconference. Alex purposely sedated his acknowledgment.

  “Thank you for joining me on such short notice. I have some good news and some bad news.”

  I have a feeling Ted’s bad news is good news for me.

  “Since I always like to end on a positive note, let’s start with the bad, though I hate to call it bad. More disappointing than anything else.”

  This guy is a real treat.

  “The disappointing news is that Biosphere will not enter into an official direct partnership with DHS.”

  What a shame.

  Alex heard grumbling on the line. He also swore he heard a muffled cheer.

  “I know, I know…not exactly what I was hoping for either, but from what I understand, DHS wanted more control over Biosphere’s operations than our executives were comfortable with, so the negotiations are currently stalled. I am told that this may not be the end of a possible deal, especially given the rapidly deteriorating situation around the country. There is still hope.”

  Dave interjected a comment, “Ted, I saw a blurb on CNF about Roche enhancing their deal with DHS.”

  “Yes, but even without an official deal, Biosphere is taking steps to secure their role,” Ted said with a hint of pride.

  More like force their role.

  “Biosphere agreed to relinquish 80% of its current sample inventory to DHS for regional utilization. I don’t have any specifics, but I assume that those samples will be added to the nation’s anti-viral stockpiles, which will be controlled by the government. I don’t know when that will happen or how, but be ready for the call. The remaining twenty percent will be retained by representatives for the good news.”

  I have a bad feeling about this one.

  “I am excited to announce that effective immediately, our district will augment the Boston District’s efforts in northern Massachusetts,” he said.

  There was dead silence.

  Not a lot of excitement about this one.

  “Ted, this is Steph. When is this going to happen?”

  Stephanie Brennan lived north of Concord with her husband, Tom, and three young children. Alex figured she’d be on the fence about complying with this initiative, but would eventually cave in to Ted’s pressure. She’d be more concerned about losing her job and a comfortable income. He knew they’d barely scraped together enough money for a down payment on a house they purchased a few years ago, immediately after her husband was hired as a middle school science teacher in Concord, and he couldn’t imagine any way they could afford to stay in their house on Tom’s income alone.

  “Good question, Stephanie,” Ted said.

  Like she’s a third grader.

  “All of the assignments are made, and hotel arrangements are set, so we’d like to put all of you in place tomorrow.”

  The phone erupted with protest, and Alex removed the Bluetooth earpiece.

  It’s too early for this.

  He activated the speakerphone feature of his smartphone.

  Ted was attempting to calm the group. “All right, all right. One at a time. I haven’t even given you the details. I realize this is short notice, but let’s face it, the pandemic is spreading quickly, and our corporate strategists agree that a huge opportunity exists if we execute this plan quickly.”

  “What exactly is the opportunity?” Alex asked.

  “Uh…well, the opportunity is to educate front line providers regarding the Jakarta flu. You’ll all receive new educational pieces to use in the field when you meet with your new coordinating manager down in Massachusetts. So, the first part of the opportunity is to assist healthcare providers with making decisions that can help contain the pandemic. And…and the samples you’ll have in your car will let them treat patients with symptoms right in their offices, improving containment efforts.”

  That wasn’t part of his script. Sorry, Ted.

  “This sounds like a PR scam,” Dave interrupted.

  “Dave, you beat me to it,” Alex commented dryly. “I don’t see how this could possibly help the situation. The Jakarta flu is about to jump like wildfire across the country. I don’t see how injecting a few sales representatives into the situation will accomplish anything, aside from providing Biosphere with a nice press release.”

  “I don’t know, Alex, if we get out there as quickly as possible with the samples and these new informational pieces, we might be the one factor that turns the tide. It’s worth a try at least,” Karen said with a cheerleader voice.

  She has no idea what we’re all up against.

  Karen Caldwell had little to lose, besides her life. Recently graduated from the University of New Hampshire, she rented an apartment with roommates in downtown Portsmouth and tirelessly committed all of her time to a career at Biosphere Pharmaceuticals.

  “You can take my spot, Karen,” Alex said.

  “Look, nobody is taking anyone’s place. All of the assignments have been submitted to the regional office, so there won’t be any changes,” Ted said forcefully.

  I’m not saying another word.

  “I will email you all of the details. Hotels, coordinating manager contact information, all of it as soon as the teleconference is finished.”

  “Ted, this is Mike. Why wou
ldn’t the Portland reps stay put? You know, to help contain any outbreaks in the more populated areas of Maine? Someone has to be left behind.”

  Wishful thinking.

  “We will be keeping two reps in Maine for that purpose,” Ted answered.

  “What are our assigned areas?” Jack Hathway asked.

  You ain’t stayin’ up in Bangor, Jack, that’s for sure.

  “Well, I was going to send that in the email, but I don’t see any reason not to give you the basics,” Ted said, sounding torn.

  I’m sure that HR directed them to fire this bomb via email. I’ll be dropping a bomb of my own as soon as this conference call finishes.

  “Let me start by saying that the regional manager wanted to minimize the geographical distance that the reps were displaced, to keep you as close to your families as possible.”

  Bullshit.

  “So…Jack and Brian, you’ll relocate to Portland and cover all of Maine. The good news for you is that you’ll still be working under me. The rest of you will have new temporary managers.”

  “Are you fucking kidding me?” Mike asked.

  “Take it easy, Mike. If you think—”

  “Take it easy? You’re basing the northern Maine reps in Portland and moving the Portland reps down to Massachusetts? How does that make any sense?” he nearly yelled.

  “What I was about to say, is that if you think about it, you’ll actually be closer to your family than the northern Maine guys. The regional manager wanted to make this as fair as possible for everyone,” he said with conviction.

  “So, where will the rest of us be fairly and justly relocated by Biosphere?” Dave asked.

  Ted read the rest of the assignments, each one invoking a minor protest, except from Karen in Portsmouth and Melissa in Concord. Alex remained silent, and Dave added a few more sarcastic comments. Mike injected a few well-timed obscenities, keeping Alex’s attention riveted to the call. Ted ended the conference call abruptly, reminding the group to check their email for the details. He never suggested that they take the rest of the day off to prepare for an immediate and indefinite relocation. Alex knew that he truly didn’t care.

  His smartphone rang.