by John Holt
Certainly, there was other news, but nothing was quite like that particular news item that dominated all the front pages on that day. Although every newspaper in the country ran the story, it was the influential “La Republica”, based in San Jose, which had broken the news first. The front-page banner headline simply read “Mysterious Illness Strikes” in thick, black letters, almost three inches high. But those three simple words graphically told the whole story, the news report that followed simply filled in the details, such as there were.
“Three people, two men and a young woman, were admitted into the local hospital at Punta Rojas, in the early hours of the morning,” it read. “It is understood that all three were suffering from respiratory problems, and all had a rash to the upper part of the body. A series of tests have been carried out on all three patients, in order to try to determine the cause of the sickness. The results of those tests are still awaited. Preliminary results are not expected until late tomorrow afternoon at the earliest. All three patients are said to be in a stable, but critical condition. An official spokesperson for the hospital said that at this stage it was far too soon to comment on the actual cause of the sickness. However, the symptoms were generally considered to be not too dissimilar to influenza. The spokesperson went on to say that the illness could be due to a previously unknown strain of influenza, or possibly, a mutation. The illness has preliminarily been dubbed Rican Flu by the hospital staff.
It is understood that the Attico Oil Company, which is based in the port of Almeria, employs all three people. It has been suggested that a chemical leak at the oil plant may be the cause of the illness, at least in part. The Health Ministry has said that at the present time there is no evidence to support this rumor. It also stresses that at no time was there any danger to the general public, and that there is no cause for alarm. The plant has now been evacuated, except for key personnel. The area has been completely sealed off. The authorities are stressing that the situation is now fully under control. Emergency teams, including chemical specialists, are currently on the site carrying out a thorough investigation. In the meantime the public are being advised to wash their hands, and, as far as possible, to keep away from crowds. Furthermore they are being told to only make essential journeys. Anyone feeling unwell should take two panadol tablets, drink plenty of fluids, keep warm, and rest.”
In the later editions there were no further details regarding the sickness. There was, however, a small additional news item regarding the alleged oil leak. “Rumors continue to spread regarding a possible oil leak at the Attico Plant. However, a spokesperson for Attico Oil has subsequently denied that there has been any chemical leak at the plant, as previously reported. The plant has been thoroughly checked and no problems have been reported. It is understood, from Interior Ministry sources, that the plant is to remain closed for the next few days at least, and possibly as long as until the middle of next week. It was also reported that there have been no new cases of the mystery illness.”
* * *
That was a little over five months ago. According to the authorities the situation was said to be under control, and there was no need for panic. However, reality showed those words to be a lie. Since that time the disease had spread throughout much of South America, and up into Mexico and into the United States. Some cases had been reported as far north as Montreal in Canada. There had been a total of three hundred cases and twelve deaths, in total.
* * *
The small General Hospital at Punta Rojas is located on the outskirts of the town, a mile or two to the north of the town centre. It comprises a group of eleven single storey buildings, which are linked to each other by a series of corridors. It is reminiscent of an old army barracks, which is exactly what it used to be when it was originally constructed in the mid nineteen thirties. At that time it was home to the Fourth Squadron of the then newly formed Army Flying Corps. The eight original buildings fell into disuse in the early nineteen sixties, and then remained vacant for a little over four years. At that time the buildings were taken over by The Health Ministry. The hospital was established just six months later, in October, nineteen sixty-five. Three additional buildings were later added, comprising a main reception area, an operating theatre, and a small number of offices.
From that day, up until the present time, nothing further had been done to the buildings, except for the construction of the mortuary block five years ago. All of the original buildings were in need of some major repair works, and re-decoration. All were in great need of refurbishment. All of the buildings lacked modern features. The heating system and the electrical installation needed upgrading urgently. Furthermore, the hospital was poorly equipped and inadequately staffed. It was far from ready for the emergency that was currently unfolding in its midst.
* * *
The young nurse hurried along the corridor, the rubber soles of her shoes squeaking loudly on the vinyl covered floor as she passed by. She was breathing hard and sweating profusely. She was late. That was bad enough, but to make matters even worse, she had a dreadful headache, and she was feeling very tired. She had taken two panadol tablets about an hour ago, but, so far they had been of no effect. Prior to that, she had tried two Codeine tablets. They had made no difference either. It seemed that nothing would eliminate the persistent ache, or the constant throbbing to the side of her face. If anything, the pain actually seemed worse. She suddenly felt very hot and dizzy. And then there were those sharp pains at the back of her neck that felt just like red-hot needles being prodded into her skin, and slowly twisted. And now her heart was beating fast, and thumping loudly. For a brief moment she wondered if she were actually coming down with the wretched virus. She shook her head, and instantly dismissed the thought from her mind. Of course she wasn’t. The symptoms were all wrong, weren’t they? There was no rash to the upper body for a start, and although she was breathing hard she couldn’t actually say that she had respiratory difficulties.
She shrugged and sighed deeply. She knew that there wasn’t actually anything seriously wrong with her, but it was all rather worrying nonetheless. Overwork that was all it was, she murmured, as simple as that. Overwork and lack of sleep. She had been on duty for a little over seven hours now, without a proper break. Yesterday had been a sixteen-hour day, the day before fifteen and a half. The day before that it had been eighteen hours. Before that her mind was a blur. Try as she might, she couldn’t actually remember how long it had been. It didn’t matter anyway, did it? Eighteen hours, or twenty, or even sixteen, what did it matter? The work was there, just waiting to be done however long it took.
She sighed once again. Overwork, she repeated. Overwork and stress that was the trouble. And no amount of tablets was ever going to solve that problem. Take two of these four times a day, until the workload goes away. There were no soothing creams, or antibiotics available that would help. Apply this cream to the affected area, and the stress will clear up in no time. There was no medication that would provide relief, or make things easier. There was no vaccination she could have. There was no surgical procedure. No miracle cure.
She shook her head, and sighed deeply for a third time. And now, on top of everything else, there was something extra. Now there was that tight feeling slowly spreading across her chest. And her throat felt constricted. That was something new at least she hadn’t noticed it before. Not that she could remember anyway. It was just something else to worry about, something else to add to all of the rest of her ailments. She sighed, trying to stifle a yawn, and failing. It was probably nothing more than indigestion most likely, a slight touch of heartburn maybe. A couple of tablets would clear it up in no time. She smiled, that is if she actually had the time to take them, which, of course, she didn’t. More tablets, she murmured. The others hadn’t worked, so why should they.
She shook her head. Probably caused by rushed meals more than likely, she thought, and no time to actually sit down and eat properly. There was just no time to digest your food properly.
There was no time to relax, and take things easy. No time to rest. No time to think. Not now, not at present. No time for anything, except work of course. There was plenty of time for that, as much time as you could imagine. It wasn’t fair. It just wasn’t fair.
She suddenly started to cough, adding to the pain in her chest. She stopped moving along, and slumped against the corridor wall. Her eyes were closed, and her head lay back against the wall. She took a deep breath, expanding her lungs fully, and then she slowly breathed out. The tight feeling in her chest began to ease slightly, and the coughing stopped. She took another deep breath, and slowly exhaled once again. All right, so it wasn’t anything serious, she muttered. The pain had eased, but she knew that it hadn’t gone for good. She knew that it would come back again.
All right, so it was just over-work. Stress, or strain, or whatever you wanted to call it. It was just anxiety, nervous tension. So she wasn’t really ill. So she wasn’t going down with something. So what about it? Was that supposed to make her feel any better? Well it didn’t. Was it supposed to make her problems fade and disappear, and everything suddenly seem all right? Well it didn’t. All right, so it was the same for everybody else, she reasoned. They hadn’t just picked on her, had they? They hadn’t singled her out from the rest, for special treatment, had they? All right everybody, you can all go home, all except for you, Nurse Martes. You stay. We have something planned for you, something special.
She wasn’t being worked harder than anyone else was she? She wasn’t the only one whose holiday had been cancelled. She wasn’t the only one with the extra duties. She wasn’t the only one crying out desperately for a break. Oh no, everyone else was in the same boat. Everyone else was being treated exactly the same as her. Did that help maybe? No it didn’t. Did it change anything? No, it didn’t. She didn’t care about everyone else anyway. She only cared about herself, her feelings, and her well-being. Nothing else mattered. All she wanted to do was to lie down and go to sleep. Right here, in the corridor, on the floor, right now. She longed just to close her eyes for a little while. Was that too much to ask? Twenty minutes that would do, she murmured. Fifteen maybe, ten would be good. Ten minutes that was all. Who could refuse her ten little minutes? Six hundred seconds. What was that, after all? Ten minutes. It wasn’t anything really, was it? You would hardly notice it. Why, it would all be over and done with by the time you spent actually discussing it. She started to laugh, and shook her head. Who could possibly refuse her? Matron, she murmured, answering her own question. Matron could refuse, and Matron would refuse. Nurse Martes shook her head once again. She knew that for the time being there wasn’t the slightest, remotest, possibility of any rest, not even for ten minutes, not for ten seconds.
For the twentieth time she checked her watch. She was late. Her hands were tingling with pins and needles, and they had now started to sweat. It was all due to nerves, she knew that. It was just psychosomatic. That is what it was, nothing more. All in her mind, her sub-conscious. She was nervous that was all.
She was also worried. She was also in trouble, deep trouble. She was late reporting back for duty. That would be the third time this month. There would be a deduction on her pay, as a penalty. That was certain. She heaved a sigh. It wasn’t fair, she murmured once again. It wasn’t just. It wasn’t right. Oh yes, she was certainly late. There was no disputing that fact. She was definitely late, although not by that much. Only by twenty-two minutes or so, but she knew that in the eyes of the matron one minute was far too much. Indeed, thirty seconds was too much. She also knew that in the present emergency that was facing the hospital every single minute counted. There was no room for leniency. Words like mercy, forgiveness, sympathy, kindness, compassion, and understanding just did not exist in the matron’s vocabulary. Nurse Martes knew that there was to be no rest. She took a deep breath, and reluctantly continued on her way.
* * *
Juanita Martes had been a nurse for a little over eight years. She had spent most of that time at the General Hospital, right here at Punta Rojas. And in all of that time she had never experienced anything quite like what was now happening at the hospital. There had been something similar about five years ago, she recalled, but nothing quite like this. In the past few weeks it had been sheer turmoil, and utter chaos. The daily influx of patients, the shortage of drugs, and the hours worked, never had there been such a time. Certainly they had been busy before, quite often if the truth was known, but it was never quite like this. This was exceptional. There seemed to be no let up, no respite, no time to relax, and no end in sight.
The local hospital had been taken by surprise, and completely overwhelmed. Not that planning in advance, if that had been possible, would have made any real difference, because it wouldn’t have. There was no way that they could have foreseen what was to happen, or make adequate plans to cope with the situation. Who could have imagined what was to come? Who could have foreseen the events of the past few weeks? Every bed was now occupied. Every ward was full to capacity. Extra beds had been brought in, and makeshift wards had been set up in several of the narrow corridors.
She hadn’t gone very far when the pain in her chest returned. She stopped once again. Leaning against the corridor wall, and holding her chest, she tried to catch her breath. As she did so she glanced out of a nearby window. Just a few yards away she could see the large white marquees that were being erected by a small detachment of soldiers. They had been there just four days and already three tents had been erected. There were two more planned as far as she was aware. Another two days, she guessed, three at the most. Then she estimated that there would be another day or two before the beds and other equipment arrived, and the extra wards would be ready. She turned away from the window for a moment. Although she could not see them, she could hear the sirens ringing out, as more ambulances brought in more and more patients. She shook her head. “Much needed extra wards,” she murmured. A lot could happen in a week.
She looked down at the tents. Suddenly she noticed somebody looking up at her window. Although she didn’t know the man’s name, she did recognize him. She had seen him on a number of occasions around the hospital. They hadn’t spoken but merely politely nodded to each other as they passed by. She looked away from the window. Had he seen her, she wondered. Had he recognized her? Should she have waved to him? She turned back towards the window, and slowly raised her arm. It was too late. He had already turned, and walked away, towards the group of soldiers.
* * *
Luis Ramone shook his head, and looked away from the window. Slowly he walked over to a small group of soldiers busily erecting one of the tents. He nodded, and smiled. He was in charge of erecting the temporary wards. It had been his idea, his project. The work was going well. Another two days and they would be finished. Three days ahead of schedule. He had certainly seen it all before, or at least something very similar. He had been in charge once before, for a similar project, almost five years previously. Then the tents had been considerably smaller, but there had been many more of them. He had finished that job ahead of schedule also, he remembered.
He shook his head, and looked at the tent currently being put up. “Soldier,” he called out loudly. “That tie-rope needs securing.”
* * *
Nurse Martes continued staring out of the window for a few moments longer. Directly below her she could see the man talking to the soldiers. She smiled and looked away. She would wave the next time, she decided.
Over to her left she could see the mortuary. Beyond, thick black smoke could be seen billowing into the air from the chimney to the crematorium. She turned from the window, took a deep breath, and then continued on her way. As she did so she thought of those five great tents. She wondered how long it would be before they too were full to capacity. She had no doubt whatsoever that it wouldn’t be that long. “And what happens then?” she wondered. Even more tents she supposed. And then more would be required, and then more still. Where would it all end? She shook her h
ead once again. When would it all end?
Another fifteen cases had been brought in just that morning. All of them had that same rash to the upper part of the body. All of them were vomiting, and all of them had the same respiratory problems. The symptoms were all too obvious, and, sadly, they were fast becoming all too common. With those extra fifteen cases that made a total of one hundred and forty-seven in all. One hundred and forty-seven cases in a few short weeks! Just at this one small hospital in Punta Rojas. She knew that the same thing was happening in hospitals all over the country. She also knew that they were all poorly equipped, and they were all desperately short of effective drugs. They were all short of staff. All were fighting a losing battle. So far, four people had died at their hospital alone, two elderly men, a middle-aged woman, and a teenage boy. There were nineteen others who were now showing advanced symptoms. She knew that there was nothing that could be done for them, and they would probably all be dead in a matter of a few days.
* * *
Chapter Two
The Virus Takes Hold
The first case to be reported had been just over three weeks ago, and had been brought in from the small fishing town of Almeria, just a few short miles further north. Nurse Martes had received that first call at just after three o’clock in the morning.
Her husband woke first and picked up the telephone. He rubbed his eyes and stared at the bedside clock for a few moments. Six minutes past three. Then he sighed and handed her the telephone. “It’s for you,” he murmured. “It’s the hospital.”
All members of staff were required to report in to the hospital immediately. That meant everyone. All leave was cancelled with immediate effect. There were to be no ifs, ands or buts. There were to be no arguments. There were to be no excuses. Report in for duty immediately, that was the instruction that went out. That was the order. A young man had been brought in from the Attico Oil Plant. He had flu like symptoms, and then shortly afterwards he had developed a rash across his back, and upper chest. Within hours he started to experience respiratory problems. His blood pressure went down rapidly, and he had died the following day. How many others had died before reaching a hospital could only be guessed at.