Affliction

by Daniels, Dottie

  I nodded in agreement with my own words. I wasn’t going to harm either of them but I would get out of that place and take my chances with the outside world before I let them lock me up in one of those rooms I saw when we were leaving the lab area. I remembered the moans and how the hair on the back of my neck stood up as I picked up the auditory vibrations from deep sounds they made. They thought a cure was in my bloodstream and now it seems less likely, they are probably going to cast me in the room with the others like trash. Not if I have anything to say about it.

  The note Mia wrote in the article came to mind after which I asked Dr. Chavan what he knew about my surviving for this long. Since it appeared I was on my last leg, talking in code seemed pointless to me. He sighed at Mia, to which she shrugged her shoulders and said she would go see if anyone was coming and try to hold them off as long as she could. The doctor and I were now alone and he sat in the chair next to the couch I was on.

  “She wasn’t supposed to say anything to you yet,” he started.

  “You two––you’re together aren’t you?” I said.

  He looked at me, a little startled by my statement.

  “You might want to try a little harder if you want to keep it a secret. You guys are cute together though,” I told him, off topic, as I buried my face in my hands. If it weren’t for the strong potential of the end of humanity, I’d say they had a chance.

  “Mia thinks the room is bugged,” I said, warning him to be careful of anything he tells me. I didn’t care anymore about my feelings and personal business being recorded but I didn’t want him to be forced to disclose his. After all, he still had a life to live.

  “That’s crazy, I’m sure they didn’t. They wouldn’t have had the time or the resources,” he assured me.

  “She says you know why I’ve made it this long. Tell me,” I said, looking at him for any sign of a reaction. It was easy to see this information was something that he wasn’t entirely prepared to divulge because he took a few seconds and a deep breath before he spoke.

  “I don’t have all the answers. For one thing, our machinery isn’t up to date when it comes to mapping the genetic markers of the disease itself. We’re doing a lot of stuff using gel electrophoresis, which is like stone age since the mass spectrometer stopped working,” he began to explain. He saw that I was lost and mumbled under his breath, “It’s been awhile since your last Biology course I assume.”

  “It’s been awhile,” I responded frankly.

  “Well, we can’t be sure until we run it again but we’ve found a few commonalities between the markers of the viral DNA from other infectious hosts and the samples taken from you,” he said while making sure that I understood.

  “I’ve read we also have a lot in common with chimpanzees and even mushrooms,” I said.

  “Yes, you’re correct about the species of man. But for this virus I am saying specifically you––your remaining healthy cells,” he said. His rebuttal was frightening.

  “Our research has been a lot like a crime show in regards to taking and comparing samples from the infected. Only a few of us know this but the only thing the virus and the samples from other infected individuals have in common seems to be you.” He paused. “One of the reasons why we’ve been taking blood samples for you every few hours so we can track its progress. We can use a scale from zero to one hundred for any given sample as far as percent saturation of the viral content.”

  “That can’t be right,” I said, a little louder than I wanted to.

  “I didn’t get infected until well after this thing got out of control. I was bitten by someone else. I couldn’t be the cause. Something is wrong with the equipment or the lab machines have been cross-contaminated,” I said as I started to ramble, thinking of any reasonable slip-up that might have occurred.

  Dr. Chavan sat there occasionally shaking his head ever so often in disagreement. My anger was beginning to build.

  “Only a few people are working your samples and I’ve run them myself to verify,” he replied.

  I started to speak again but he cut me off, which was a little out of his usual behavior.

  “The equipment may be an issue but the basic techniques never change. I don’t have time to fully explain everything now but I need you to use your discretion and act like you know nothing for now. I promise you they still need you because you are talking right now. That has to count for something.”

  “Would you be willing to bet your own life on it?” I said as I smirked and suddenly coughed without warning. I was able to cover my mouth with my hand just in time but right after I noticed a few fine drops of blood in my palm as I pulled it away. Dr. Chavan saw my reaction and without hesitation he quickly took my hand by the wrist to see for his self what it was. He looked into my already bloodied irises and shook his head, smirked in a playful manner and said, “You’re just falling apart, aren’t you?”

  It wasn’t something I would’ve joked about.

  The doctor was up in a second to hand me a box of Kleenex while I started to lecture him about infection control. He was close enough that droplets could be an issue; at least where I was trained it was a concern. He still had his disposable gloves on from earlier but shrugged off any real concern. He said that the virus itself and the infection statistics abroad made no suggestion about an airborne threat as of yet. Of course this brought me no comfort. Everything was trial and error these days with the exception that an error could cost someone and a lot of others their lives. I wasn’t about to let up on the issue and set on to continue my point, if anything I would be the world’s most conscientious dead one. A swipe of the keycard on the outside sounded and the door opened quickly from Mia who whispered a quick and anxious, “They’re coming!” before she closed the door just as quickly and was back on the outside of the room pretending to not inform us of their arrival.

  The doctor looked at me in an anxious manner from where he was standing and before he could say anything more I pledged my secrecy. “I won’t say a word,” I said as I remembered again from my first night here when he said he would help me. My uncle Lloyd was around here but he seemed so distant and distracted by the overall operation of this place to actually be of any help to me. I hadn’t seen him in years, since my cousin Paige’s funeral. Before that tragic time, he might show up to a couple of family functions a year.

  Aside from the warning, the sound of the door opening still managed to startle us both as Dr. Chavan now had my paper chart in his hands and was jotting a few things down when he hesitated. I remained seated on the couch with the tissues in hand as I looked to see who all was coming in. It was Dr. Strauss with my uncle, another young man in a lab coat, and Davenport along with another guy from security I recognized from before. The room seemed much smaller now with seven of us in it, not to mention Mia who peeked around the door while it was still open. We caught each other’s eye and she gave me a warm and supportive smile before she disappeared behind the shoulder of Davenport who eyed me with obvious suspicion and scrutiny. I was sure as the Head of Security he’d been briefed about the incident seconds after it happened. Any tiny bit of optimism and comfort I had remaining disappeared when my eyes met his. I was immediately more uncomfortable and automatically glanced down to his hands, expecting perhaps to see his firearm drawn already. To my surprise it wasn’t; however, the gray, large-caliber pistol was nearby in the holster attached to his belt.

  I would’ve expected my uncle to approach me first but it was Dr. Strauss who spoke to me. She looked concern but seemed a bit refreshed and more youthful than before, maybe because her hair was now in a ponytail and she had on casual clothes, some jeans and a Cornell University sweatshirt. She looked at least five years younger than my first estimation when I saw her and now looked to be in her late thirties. My uncle was still in similar attire as before: slacks, shirt and tie.

  “Seanna, can you recall anything during the incident?” she said with a little alarm in her voice.

  So that’s w
hat they were calling it now––“the incident.” Interesting, I thought.

  “No, I don’t remember anything. I was told I might’ve tried to attack Mia, which I wouldn’t willfully do,” I said as I looked down and ran my fingers through my hair. I felt embarrassed at this point and in a child-like manner, I let my hair cover most of my face with the rest of it being covered by my hands, which seemed a little thinner. I was sure I would have to repeat everything I already told the others, along with the sincerest of apologies. The guard next to Davenport spoke out of nowhere. Besides being rude, it took me by surprise.

  “I see we have the world’s first polite and unintentional zombie,” he said in snide manner, just above a whisper to Davenport. He was at least four inches shorter and had to lean up into his ear to say it but nevertheless we all heard it.

  “Oh, go to hell, you have no idea what this is like…,” I lashed out at him before several other voices jumped in. I heard my uncle and Dr. Strauss trying to tell everyone to remain calm. I managed to shout out, “You just want to shoot at something!” before everyone quieted down again. Davenport told the guard to stand outside and gave him a pat on the shoulder as he left. The guard was visibly upset but obeyed the request and left without another word. Dr. Chavan broke the tension by reporting off some of the saturation levels he told me about earlier. He saved me the trouble by recounting the incident the way it happened, looking for my confirmation of the events when he got to the part about my approaching Mia after she found me in the bathroom.

  “I don’t want to be restrained again,” I said as soon as I felt the doctor was close enough to the end––the part where I was injected and soon after was dumbfounded about being on the floor with lots of protected hands restraining me.

  “Unfortunately there may not be another option,” Dr. Strauss said.

  “Maybe we will increase the potency or give injections more frequently. They will do what they can, Seanna,” Lloyd spoke up.

  They had a mini-conference for about a minute more and decided on more frequent injections until they could create something more potent. Until then, the schedule went from every four hours to every three with around the clock checks, every forty-five minutes. Mia along with every other nurse working with me had to have a second person with them whenever they were in my room. Security would also be nearby. We all knew this would be a huge drain on resources but the only other option would be to join the other dead ones in their section down in the lab.

  No way.

  I may have almost been a dead one but the person I was right now begged to differ. I felt the fatigue coming on and stood up only to make myself more comfortable on the couch. I laid my head down on one of the couch pillows, which was more comfortable than it actually looked. Everyone else in the room stood back, a little startled themselves anxious to see what it was I was doing. Dr. Chavan double-checked the time on his watch as they all confirmed the next several injection times.

  “I think I’m going to stay on the couch this time. That bed is bad luck,” I said to the group.

  “That is perfectly okay, you make yourself comfortable. None of us can fully comprehend what you are going through now,” Lloyd replied.

  Mia brought in bottled water with some fresh ginger ale already poured in a glass and bubbling. The sound was simple but soothing. I smiled and thanked her, getting up almost immediately after she set it down so I could take a few gulps. The coolness of the water was soothing to my throat and hit my stomach like a rock but at this point it was more than a welcome event because I was doing something that the dead ones didn’t do. They had an appetite for live flesh. They were the cause of massive amounts of death when they weren’t gaining numbers. They weren’t even aware they were working together as a joint effort, which was stunning. Each one worked for their own unending desires to attack and eat any and all who moved and they were happy to attack and eat the same person at once.

  I just wanted more of the cool water.

  Chapter Ten

  I couldn’t have been more than five years old. It was fall because most of the leaves were bright orange, yellow and red, and I wasn’t yet in my heaviest coat. I was in kindergarten when my mother suddenly showed up in class to excuse me from school early. She was slightly overwhelmed carrying my brother, who was just a toddler in her arms. He was fidgeting and trying to get down to be amongst the other children’s activities. I was sitting with a few of my classmates at a round table and we were coloring trees, using what we thought were supposed to be fall colors only––that was what the teacher said to do. My mother was in a rush and I couldn’t finish because I had a doctor’s appointment she told my teacher we were running late for. Once we were outside my mother was visibly anxious and was talking to herself, or at least not to my brother or me as she buckled him into his car seat while I climbed into the backseat to sit on the other side. I heard her say, “This will be the last time, I promise,” a few times under her breath before I asked her what she meant. She replied, “Nothing sweetheart, just make sure your seatbelt is buckled for me,” before she reached over and checked it herself. During the car ride I rambled on about a character I saw on TV regularly, how they had magical powers and how no one could beat them. I remember asking her if anyone we knew had magical powers. The next thing I knew we arrived at a building I had been to before but was not the doctor’s office at all. At the doctor’s office you get a sticker or some crayons and a coloring book. These people were nice to me, though my mother never smiled while we were there. They’d let me measure myself or at least try to. They asked me to sit still for as long as I could and how high I could count. The next thing I remember, I was back home and watching TV with the character that had superpowers again.

  I slept through most of the afternoon right there on the couch, waking only to get another injection and to verify with the staff that I was still alive. Although the term “sleeping like the dead” now had a whole new meaning, I was still more like the old-fashioned meaning because I didn’t move an inch during either nap. Mia was extremely brave; she wanted to be present for every dose and check-up while she was on duty. She came in with Louise who was still a bit shaken up from our last encounter. I couldn’t blame her one bit. They both used extreme caution, saying my name gently to alert me versus a traditional tap on the shoulder or leg. I bet being startled was not a catalyst to turning into a dead one but it was smart to not jolt awake an infected person either.

  Dr. Chavan returned eventually, I assume after he had some rest. By then, the daylight in the room was beginning to fade and more lights were being left on. He asked about my appetite and I was completely honest with him. I was starving. It brought me to life to even discuss the topic.

  “You know in Allentown, they have this excellent hoagie and pizza shop, Emma Lou’s. Man, I’m telling you, you want a good hoagie, any kind––they’d make it. They had the best pepperoni and sausage, like it was made by an Italian goddess or something. You could smell the bread dough and all the herbs from the parking lot,” I fondly recalled.

  “If I could go back right now and order something it would be the Momma’s Little Monster combo. Pepperoni and sausage with onions, peppers, melted provolone and lettuce. There’d be just enough of the pizza sauce so it wouldn’t leak out everywhere. It came with fries that were just the right size, crispy and not too salty. I’d take it home for dinner if I had a late shift. They knew my name just like most of the other paramedics. I hope they’re doing okay and safe somewhere,” I said, coming back to the current reality.

  The doctor listened to me and nodded in agreement as I described to him this beautiful, edible work of art that was a part of my menu most weeks. He responded by telling me about his favorite restaurant that served traditional Indian cuisine as well as American food, saying they had the best curried tilapia and saffron chicken, as if it came from his mother’s kitchen. A somber feeling overcame even my ravenous hunger as I thought about his mother and all the other people I never
knew and would never meet. Not because our paths would never cross on an ordinary day but now because there was an infection with a near 100% mortality rate that would prevent any sort of casual or friendly meetings by chance.

  “Well there isn’t any Emma Lou’s on the menu but I bet we can do ham and cheese,” he said with a little optimism.

  “Wonderful,” I replied.

  I meant it as he went on with the real reason why he was here. He seemed a bit anxious but I assumed it was for all of the obvious reasons. Our brief conversation about food had to show I was still very human because I saw on the television back at my place how these dead ones had no recollection or feelings––much less the desire to articulate anything beyond a mumble or groan. He looked into my eyes again with the penlight and took my temperature and pulse. Again, the vitals were nearly impossible to have and yet still be conscious.

  “Any better?” I asked him as soon as he could gather results.

  “Not any worse. I’d say what we’re doing now is effective,” he replied. He moved quickly however to make sure I wouldn’t fall behind on my medication schedule. He told me this round would just be the anti-viral alone, which should be okay since the mixture with narcotic pain medication was probably decreasing my appetite. I could tell I had lost a few pounds because the threads I was in hung more freely. It wasn’t a diet I’d recommend by any means. As soon as Louise came in, he told her about the sandwich request and she picked up the phone and called Mia. Louise already broke the rule about having two people in the room with me by leaving though it was Dr. Chavan who sent her out of the room. Mia showed up quickly and stood by his side. As he sat in the chair on the side of me I could see her giving him a caring rub on his shoulder. Louise was happy to go get the food, it was clear she didn’t want to stay any longer than she had to.