RECTIFY
A novella
by
Jacqueline Druga
Rectify - By Jacqueline Druga
Copyright 2018 by Jacqueline Druga
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any person or persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Paula Gibson, Kira, and Linda B, thank you for all your help
Cover Art by Simon Nevill – Venison Mills
1 – WHO SHE IS
June Mannis was dying. She knew it. In every fiber of her being, emotionally and physically she felt it. It moved with her blood through her system like a thick acid, burning, expanding, in every artery, vein and capillary. Each pump of her heart literally hurt and, it wasn’t figuratively, it was real.
In a way, what happened to June was her own doing. She supposed that it could have been avoided. The time of it, not the actual act. Eventually she would die. Her death sentence would come, she didn’t have it in her for it not to. But she had it in her to beat the foe before the danger was right there. Physically she was average. Average height, average weight, average … everything. Her destiny was to be a cerebral hero. An expectation many placed upon her, and one she had failed to live up to.
June was no different than billions of others. She didn’t lack the will to live or to fight, things just happened. At one point, June was a warrior. That turned on a dime and her priorities changed.
It was about saving her family, it had always been about them.
Her family, and saving them, was the reason she became a doctor. The decision to embrace medicine came long before the events that threatened the very existence of humanity.
It wasn’t some sort of star studded revelation that the world would face a plague, viral outbreak, nuclear war or any other bring of the apocalypse scenarios that caused her decision to choose medicine. It was the everyday things. Fever, cough, a banged up knee … all so she could be the one to make the decision. So she would have the knowledge and not have to bow down and accept at face value what someone with a degree told her.
It grew from an experience, not paranoia. She never thought she had it in her to be a doctor, nor wanted to, until her first born daughter, Henny was born.
At the age of two months, Henny became sick. The pediatrician dismissed the symptoms and gave her the speech, ‘If this or that happens, call, otherwise let it run its course’. June had a hard time with that, Henny was tiny and fragile, how could a medical professional not take something serious?
The pediatrician dismissed her as some first time, neurotic mother, but June, like many other mothers took to the internet. Which prompted the doctor to tell her, “Google doesn’t have a medical degree nor see patients like this every day.”
“She was around my nephew, he has strep,” June told him.
“She was vaccinated. She doesn’t have it.”
His words didn’t lessen her fears and June took the child to the Emergency Room. Still she was dismissed. Finally, Henny didn’t get better and another trip to the ER confirmed her web browsing, mother’s intuition diagnosis.
Meningitis.
Henny survived, but it wasn’t without repercussions. The delayed treatment caused her not only to suffer an intellectual disability, but she was deaf as well.
It was after that, June wanted control.
She just didn’t realize that she would become a smug doctor who dismissed things, that diagnosing her family wasn’t easy, and it was faulty. Suddenly knowledge was a curse. When any illness or injury arose, she misdiagnosed them easily with a ‘It couldn’t be that, you’re fine’, because her judgement was clouded by wishful thinking.
Nevertheless, June was good at what she did. She could have chosen to do private practice, but not wanting to deal with all the insurance issues, she opted for emergency medicine blanketing herself under a hospital.
She grew up, married and went to school in Chicago. She even did her residency in Chicago, did so well she was given a position there. She credited her husband Stan for her ability to focus on school. He supported the family and made the sacrifices, he worked extra hours as an editor and producer at the local news. When he needed to transfer farther east to be close to his ailing mother, June didn’t balk at the thought. She encouraged him not to work, to take it easy and take care of his mother. Stan didn’t listen, he was used to working and he was able to land a job at the local news in Pittsburgh. June focused on the area closer to her mother-in-law and easily secured a senior physician position at a rural ER thirty miles south. They lived near the hospital and since June was a doctor, they moved her mother-in-law, Ester into the new home.
It was difficult going from the fast pace of an eight hundred room hospital in the city, with gunshot wounds and drama, to a hospital a quarter of that size and an emergency room that rarely saw anything.
Twenty-four recently remodeled trauma rooms, and at most they had eight at a time full. Most of the time there was only one doctor and a couple nurses. The nights weren’t crazy like Chicago, they were quiet and boring.
It didn’t take long for her to fall into the routine there.
She ended up enjoying the pace. Smug as she was, God complex in tow, June wasn’t thrown through a loop like most when the infection began. Even in her rural setting she recognized it and was on top of it. She was the first to go public with concerns that human nature, not communicability rate, would cause the virus to spiral out of control.
She was right.
People, just like June, would get it. Not because they took a breath of air or were exposed to it, but because they cared and loved. They were human.
All the precautions, gloves or facemasks, in the world weren’t going to cut it. They wouldn’t protect the mother who held her dying child, or the husband who cradled his wife, because they wouldn’t be wearing a plastic sheath when they kissed their loved ones goodbye, or rather, what was really needed … a suit of armor.
No one who caught it truly willingly allowed themselves to get infected. It wasn’t on any death wish, bucket list. In an unconscious way they were vulnerable and didn’t realize it.
At some point though, it wasn’t enough to just survive, that wasn’t living. Succumbing was the fast way out.
Was it though?
Was it really?
2 – ORIGINS
One of the things June had learned working in a big hospital was to stay on top of things. New strains, flu outbreaks, anything like that. She didn’t want to be that ER attending that misdiagnosed Ebola for food poisoning.
Not only did she read the reports that were sent to her from hospital administration, she frequented the websites of the CDC and WHO to check for alerts.
From the moment she joined the staff at Mon Valley, she knew those daily informative emails were over. Mon Valley saw cases of flu, but mainly the hospital didn’t get much. Bruises, cuts and occasional cardiac arrest. June had to take it upon herself to be informed.
Each patient at Mon Valley was treated like royalty and given the full-scale examination, every stone turned. Not because they prided themselves on being that thorough, but more so there were never that many patients and a plethora of tests made the nights go faster.
June got used to that. So much so, that when it got a little busy, she grew irritated.
She grew to like the slow pace.
It was a Tuesday night and June was on the nightshift. She never minded the night shift, she could get the kids off to school when she got home and then sleep. It allowed her to be there for her three girls when they got home, and for Ester, should she need her.
Usu
ally weekday nights saw at most five patients during the course of the shift, but on this one, she had five at one time. All of them different things.
A breathing problem, kidney stones, banged up knees, possible cardiac and a drug addict, he claimed he flu and coughed so hard he threw out his back, when he was really looking for a way to get a fix as he fought, what the charge nurse described as symptoms of withdrawal.
“Is it a full moon,” June asked looking at the computer. “Someone tell me it’s a full moon.”
“It’s not,” a nurse, Patrick said. “Room six.” He handed her a chart. “Thirty-three year old male, complaining of chest tightness.”
“EKG?”
“Slightly abnormal rhythm.” He showed her the EKG strip. “Waiting on the chest x-ray and labs now.”
“His O2 Sat.”
“Normal. There is a family history of pericarditis.”
“Okay, thanks,” June took the chart and headed toward room six. The wife of the patient in room five hurried out to stop June.
“We’ve been waiting an hour. My husband is in pain,” the woman said.
“Ma’am, I promise I will be with him shortly.”
“I don’t think you understand. He’s bad. He was fine when he went to the concert, he’s even worse since I brought him in.”
June leaned slightly back to see the man. He lay on the ER bed, his head going back and forth, and he appeared to be restless. “I’ll be with him shortly. I promise.”
“Please,” the woman begged.
“Ma’am I …”
Patient Five groaned out painfully.
June spotted Patrick and grabbed him. “Hey, I’m going to check on five. Can you go in six, hook him up to the monitors, prep him for an IV and begin pre-admission.”
“Sure thing.”
“I’ll be right in,” June said, then went in room five. She was going in blindly, she had his chart but didn’t look at it, only relying on the verbal rundown of the man from Patrick. “What’s his name?” she asked his wife.
“Greg. Greg Jenner.”
“Mr. Jenner,” June said in a slightly louder voice. “I’m Doctor Mannis, can you tell me what you’re feeling right now?”
“It hurts. Everything hurts.” He grunted loudly.
June placed on gloves and walked closer to him. When she put her hand on his arm, she could feel the warmth of his skin. “Mr. Jenner, have you had this fever long?”
His wife answered. “No. It started an hour after he got home.”
“Mr. Jenner, I want to take a look, can you sit up for me?” June helped him to lean forward, when he did, she noticed the blood on the bed. Crinkled brow, she looked at his back. There was a huge gaping scratch right by the base of his neck. “How did he get this?” June asked.
“I … I don’t know. Maybe at the concert. He said there was a huge fight.”
“Where was he at?’
“Stage AE.”
June lay the man back down, but this time on his side. She faced his wife. “I’ll be back, I want to get his chart and a nurse to help with the wound.” She took off her gloves and tossed them in the trash. As she left, she not only pulled the curtain closed, she partially shut the sliding glass door.
Knowing Patrick was in the next room, June headed back to the nurse’s station. “Evie,” she spoke to the other nurse there. “I need a complete blood work up on five.”
“Doctor Mannis, this …”
“I thought I was told five was a known user here.”
“He is, but …”
“That’s not detox. I want …”
“Doctor Mannis,” Evie firmly cut her off. “This just came in. A fax.” She handed June a document.
June looked at her watch. “A fax at three in the morning?” She took it and saw the CDC heading.
It was an alert brief in nature, but informative. June had made it half way through when her own internal alert system went off. She set down the document on the counter and turned just as a long scream rang out. It was a woman.
She raced back down the hall toward the examining rooms and no sooner did she approach room five, Mrs. Jenner stumbled out. Hands to her throat, blood pulsed out between her fingers and she dropped to the floor.
June reached down for her and her eyes lifted to the bang that came from room five. She didn’t see anything. It was a gut reaction that caused June to lunge for the glass door of the room and quickly slide it shut.
The second the door connected with the latch, Jenner slammed into the glass. His bloody hands squeaked against the glass as he clawed at it. His mouth moved in a biting motion.
June stepped back and took a breath. She believed he was trapped until she watched him reach to open the door. As he pulled for it, June jumped forward and countered his attempts. A struggle over the door ensued. She pushed as hard as she could to keep that door shut.
Mrs. Jenner on the floor behind her was crying and screaming hysterically, all June could think of was keeping Mr. Jenner in room five.
Patrick ran from room six. “Oh my God.”
“Get Evie to help her,” June said of Mrs. Jenner as she tried to plant her feet firm.
“I’ll get security,” Patrick said.
The notion of the Mon Valley Hospital security guard coming to the rescue was comical to June, he could barely make it to the vending machine.
“And the police,” June told him.
“I’ll be right back to help you,” Patrick said.
June nodded. She had to focus and give it all her strength. Jenner kept a locked stare on her through the glass as he pulled the door. He was relentless in his pursuit to get free, and June had to be just as relentless to keep him in there. She had to be.
3 – THE FAX
Rational, level headed June went into a complete paranoia meltdown.
“Stan,” she spoke his name hurriedly as she huddled with the phone in the corner of the nurse’s station.
“June, it’s three in the morning, what’s wrong?”
“Listen to me, I can’t talk right now. Do not send the girls to school. Lock the doors. Do not leave them alone. I don’t know when I’ll be home. I can’t …” she looked over her shoulder. “I can’t talk. I’ll text you.”
“June …”
“I love you.”
She hung up the phone and slipped it into her pocket. She needed a moment, a break, her hands were still covered with blood. What was she thinking touching things? She rushed to the sink and scrubbed her hands for at least a minute.
The ER was transformed from oddly semi-busy to the insanity of the ER in Chicago. State police had come in and within two hours, the Health Department arrived in hazmat suits.
Strangely enough, they only shut down hallway A and rooms one through six.
The chaos died down almost as fast as it began.
Mr. Jenner’s body was placed in a bag and had been removed. The police officers purchased from the vending machines on their way out, Wally the security guy was back to watching informercials, and the lab sent down the results for the cardiac patient.
June found herself staring down at the mess in hallway A, holding those lab results in her hand.
She kept flashing back to the moment help arrived.
“We have it,” a police officer said. “Let go of the door.”
June shook her head. She watched as another officer in riot gear stood back against the wall opposite of Mr. Jenner’s room.
“We have it. Let go.”
June’s eyes shifted to the officer’s hands flush against the glass, holding the door, then she released and stepped back.
“You ready?” the one officer asked.
SWAT policeman indicated to her she was done on the count of three, the officer slid open the door to examine room five.
Mr. Jenner took one lunging step. Riot gear officer fired a single deadly shot.
Mr. Jenner went down.
June didn’t know if she screamed, she thought she did
. She knew she jumped, just like she jumped when a hand lay on her shoulder, taking her out of that flashback.
“Just a precaution and for investigation,” an epidemiologist from the health department said. “This virus is not airborne. It’s bloodborne, so contact with blood and fluids.”
“I’m well aware of what bloodborne means. This is the virus that was in the fax?” June asked.
“We believe at this time that Mr. Jenner wasn’t a derivation case, he was more of a progeny of the original strain, one caused by a bite or scratch. There were nine other cases reported at UPMC, all of which, like Mr. Jenner were at the concert. They, more than Mr. Jenner, showed baseline symptoms of CO-D4.”
“I’m sorry, Co …
“For ease we pronounce it Cody. Cognitive Impairment Dysfunction virus level 4. Baseline is basic flu like symptoms that increase with severity. None of the concert goers showed this rage, those are seen in progeny cases.”
“So, there are others?”
“Unfortunately, yes. It happened fast, we are still collecting facts. It came out of nowhere seven days ago. Then again, if you think about it, is it always out of nowhere when we travel so much.” He shrugged. “Have a good night, doctor, we’ll take it from here. I believe your cardiac patient was moved to eighteen.”
When he walked away, he left June a stuttering mess. She was still processing all that had happened.
Why was the hospital even open?
She expected the hospital to be quarantined or at the very least, herself, yet the only person they did quarantine was Mrs. Jenner.
What happened to her throat?
How did she get cut? Obviously, Mr. Jenner did something to her. June wasn’t allowed to do the examination, but it wasn’t as if they were being secretive.
The whole thing shocked June, the CDC felt compelled to send a warning, yet was completely dismissive about it all. Everyone seemed to be. The health department declared the area contained. How was that possible? Maybe it was. Maybe it wasn’t. Maybe they planned on covering things up, destroying all evidence or … they weren’t doing anything. Perhaps the trivializing of the situation was just a ruse for the fact that it was so already out of control, why waste efforts over only one case?
Rectify_A Novella Page 1