The lead Kazakh doctor, a dark bearded man in his early fifties with acne scaring that gave him a much older appearance, leaned forward in his chair and sighed out loud. He reached over and picked up the clipboard Irene had been holding. “I hope that our translations of the reports were sufficient for you, Doctor Hopkins,” said the man. “Unfortunately, we haven’t been able to see an actual transmission, so there is no documentation on that.” The man’s English was very good and he spoke it with just a subtle accent. “All these specimens were collected by our military in the field near the Russian border, with much difficulty I might add, and prior to your arrival. With that being said, we don’t have a precise time of exposure for several of the subjects.” He looked over and gestured to Roberts. “And just to simplify things, for the time being, we’ve decided to refer to this as the ‘Ozersk Syndrome’ until we can come up with a more plausible reference.”
“Well, Doctor Massimov, unless this syndrome spreads further south towards us, we may not get to see a transmission,” Roberts said.
“For everyone’s sake, let’s hope it doesn’t spread that far,” Massimov countered.
“Uh, if I might add something, I think it would be very helpful if we could at least get out in the field to observe a person in the early stages of infection,” Michael added. “It might help us to get a better understanding of what’s going on out there. Maybe you could arrange for us to go out to one of the hot zones?” Michael was of the firm belief that if this indeed was a weaponized version of rabies, they needed to get a first-hand perspective on things, and sitting in the laboratory wasn’t going to allow that.
“One thing we have noted is that the subjects here have varying levels of trauma on them, but none of them are fatal injuries.” Massimov intentionally avoided addressing Michael’s request. He slid the clipboard out into the middle of the table. “For example, subject five has three large bites on his right arm, while subject two has one small bite on the left hand. There are photographs of the injuries in the files on the clipboard if any of you are interested in looking at them up close.”
“And that would account for the transmission through the bites,” Irene said, “yet, one subject has no visible bites or injuries.”
“Yes, that is correct,” Massimov agreed. “Subject One has no signs of trauma. She was allegedly infected from exposure to contaminated blood—I think the report indicates that she was sprayed in the face with ‘projectile’ vomit. We just haven’t been able to see how long it takes for someone to exhibit symptoms once they are exposed. All we can go by are the reports from witnesses, and most of those are from uneducated farmers and peasants. That makes our available data very unreliable.”
Michael looked over at Roberts, raising his eyebrows in concern.
“I see that all the subjects are running temperatures hovering around one-oh-two to one-oh-three, and they all have elevated pulse rates,” Roberts noted, almost in astonishment. “That must put incredible stress on their brain functions. Also, there is some radioactivity in all of the subjects…nothing that is fatal, but elevated none the less. And they are exhibiting an abnormal increase in strength.”
Irene stood up and placed her hips on her hands. She then ran one hand over her uncombed hair, which she had tied back with a small skrunchie. She looked around at everyone sitting at the table and said, “The only thing we really haven’t talked about…and I know it’s the gorilla in the room that everyone seems to shy away from…but we haven’t really discussed the possibility that we are dealing with some sort of engineered bio-weapon here.”
“Believe me,” Massimov said, “we all have given consideration to that. If it is a weapon, it isn’t showing up in any of the tests that we have run…save for the elevated radiation levels.” He looked over at Roberts again, suspicion filling him, and he said, “We just don’t have the evidence to conclude that this is a man-made agent.”
As the group continued to discuss their findings, a yellow phone next to the bank of monitors began to ring. Massimov excused himself and walked over to answer it.
“This is Doctor Massimov.” He was speaking in Russian. “A woman with bite wounds? Is she conscious? Who else is with her? Okay, we’ll be right down.” Looking over at the table of doctors, he hung up the phone and said, “A farmer and his wife from Ryazanovka just came into the emergency room. They were attacked at their home and the woman is suffering from multiple bites. She is unconscious right now.” His excitement could be heard over his slight accent, although he was trying to hide his eagerness. “She has numerous bites on her lower extremities. This may be our first opportunity to observe someone transition into full blown infection. We need to get down there immediately.”
Hurriedly, the group headed for the exit. Massimov pulled an electronic card key from out of his lab coat pocket. With the wave of the card over a wall mounted reader, the door automatically recessed into the wall and the group began to exit the lab. Stationed just outside of the lab was a very tall and muscular guard. He was wearing a black uniform with black tactical gear. Slung across his chest was a Kalashnikov rifle. Irene, Michael and Roberts were surprised to see the man standing there. When they had initially gone into the lab earlier in the day, no guard had been present. The armed man eyed each doctor warily as they walked past him. His face was set in a stoic expression, but he made sure that his eyes made contact with each person as they passed him by. Irene felt that the guard was attempting to intimidate them.
“When did he show up?” she whispered to Michael. Michael simply raised his eyebrows and avoided replying.
After leaving the room, the group walked down a long, narrow hallway. The walls, the floor, and the ceiling were done in a sterile white and there were no other doors or windows save for the single elevator at the end of the hallway. Massimov used his card again to gain access to the elevator and as the group shuffled through the door, he said, “We need to ensure we make the most out of this opportunity. I’m not sure when we will have another chance to work with someone like this.” He was speaking faster now.
Michael shook his head in frustration. He knew that the only way to get a working understanding on the incident was to get out into the field. “Doctor Massimov, it would really help matters if we could get out in the field and observe this thing first hand.”
“I’m sorry, but that wouldn’t be feasible right now,” Massimov said in a slightly dismissive tone. “Things are chaotic out there and I don’t think our President Sorokin would be very pleased if anything were to happen to his guests.”
“I would have to agree with my American colleague,” said the small-framed woman who had had been sitting quietly next to Massimov in the lab. Her accent was much heavier than Massimov’s. She had been the last one to board the elevator and she was standing closest to the door. “We need to get out there and see what is going on. We can’t gather anything concrete from observing those people whom we have locked up in those prison cells.”
“My dear Doctor Mamani, those aren’t cells, those are medical quarantine rooms.” It was obvious that Massimov was resentful towards Mamani’s reference to Kazakhstan’s darker times.
“Those are cells,” she flatly stated. “You forget…this places wasn’t always a hospital. All you have to do is ask my uncle about this building. He spent a good deal of time here for holding ‘anti-state’ beliefs. And you can believe me when I say that he wasn’t here receiving medical treatment. We all know the Communists didn’t care for Muslims back then.” Massimov shot an angry, incredulous glare at the doctor. Seeing this, she decided to quickly change the subject back to the present situation.
“So long as we sit up in that laboratory, nothing is going to get accomplished,” Mamani continued. “If we are indeed looking at some sort of man-made strain of rabies, like some have speculated, we need to act right now or we run the risk of letting this get out of control. God knows the Russians aren’t being very helpful.”
Rattled by Mamani’s stat
ement, the group rode in silence the remaining three floors down to the ground level. When they exited the elevator, they entered into another sterile hallway. Just like the hallway above, it was empty of doors and windows and it dead-ended at a stainless steel exit. Massimov used the card to open the door and just on the other side sat another guard at a small desk. He too was armed with a rifle.
“Okay, what’s up with the guards?” Michael asked aloud. “These guys weren’t here when we went up earlier.”
“Um, I am sure it is for our protection and safety,” Massimov said. His tone suggested that he was simply trying to brush aside any worries the Americans might have been developing.
The elevator door opened up into the rear of a storage room full of linens, push carts and cleaning supplies. With the elevator being in an inconspicuous, almost secretive location, unless you were aware of its location, one would never know of its presence. As they made their way through the storage area, Irene thought back to Mamani’s reference to prison cells. Maybe the woman was telling the truth about the hospital’s other functions.
After exiting the storage room, they made their way past the x-ray room and as they neared the E.R., they could hear a man yelling and screaming further down the corridor. The Americans couldn’t understand what was being said because the man was speaking in Kazakh.
An orderly, his face twisted with fear, sprinted up to Massimov. “Doctor, we have the patient in Examination Room One. We are trying to stabilize her, but we can’t get a line into her. We do have a monitor on her and her vitals are very erratic.”
“Who is doing all that yelling?”
“It’s the woman’s husband, Doctor Massimov.”
“We can’t have any of that in here while we deal with this. Have a guard take him over to the waiting area.”
“Yes doctor.” The orderly turned and ran off to summon the guard from the storage room.
“What’s going on?” Roberts asked, now frustrated with the language barrier. Unfortunately for him, he had been schooled in German and Spanish, not Kazakh or Russian.
“It’s just the woman’s husband. We’ll have him moved to the waiting room. Now, please follow me.”
As the group made their way into the examination room, a young nurse approached them, her voice shaking as she said, “She’s going into convulsions.” She pointed back to the thrashing lady. We’ve had to strap her down.”
As they entered the room, Irene’s mouth dropped. The flailing woman had safety straps across her abdomen and her legs. Her breasts had been exposed to allow the placement of the monitor pads and she was convulsing so badly that she was rolling the gurney back and forth on its wheels. The gurney’s frame rattled in protest against the force being exerted against it and blood was splattering on the floor as it fell from her ravaged legs. A physician was grabbing onto the gurney in an attempt to prevent it from falling over.
“My God, what’s happening to her?” Irene asked.
Roberts looked over at Massimov and said in an unconvincing tone, “Who knows, maybe it could be some form of undetectable rabies?” Roberts wasn’t aware that the doctor who was struggling with the gurney, Pavlov, was fluent in English and that he had overheard them.
A loud commotion erupted in the lobby and the three Americans stepped out into the hallway to see what was going on. They were able to look out through a doorway that led to the reception area and they could see the guard and the distraught husband yelling and shouting at each other.
“I’m not going anywhere!” screamed the man. He was speaking in his native tongue.
“You have no choice!” the guard bellowed. “You either go peacefully or we remove you by force.”
“You’ll have to kill me first! I want to see my wife, right—”
Without warning, the guard delivered a smashing butt stroke with his rifle to the husband’s jaw. The man, caught by surprise, crumpled to the floor as the guard slung his weapon. Quickly, he reached down and grabbed the dazed man by one of his ankles, dragging him out of Irene’s view.
Irene and Michael both looked at Roberts, their features contorted with revulsion.
“I guess they don’t mess around here,” Roberts said, chuckling.
“Damn, she’s flat lining!” yelled Pavlov. He looked over at Massimov and the others, almost as if he was expecting some sort of assistance. “She’s losing too much blood. We’ve got to type her and get a line into her!” He grabbed onto her arm and struggled to hold it down. He then looked at the nurse and yelled, “Anna, get over here!”
The nurse timidly walked up to the doctor. “Yes Doctor Pavlov, I’m here.” She clutched an I.V. bag and drip line, and as she reached out for the whirling arm, the woman let out a deep, guttural belch and vomited a black oily sludge. She twisted her head violently, spewing her stomach contents over Anna. Massimov, Roberts and the others jumped back to avoid the vile spray. The nurse stumbled away from the gurney, her face smeared with the black goo. Some of the concoction had actually splashed into her mouth and eyes and she was frantically trying to wipe it off. The stench of the vomit was overpowering and Michael began to gag on his own vomit.
“Holy shit!” Roberts exclaimed. He covered his nose with his hand as he tried to block out the smell.
“Oh no, she’s been exposed,” Irene said to Michael as she nodded towards the nurse.
“I know. Someone needs to tell the attending physician.” Michael stepped forward and with an urgent tone, he said, “Doctor Massimov, the nurse needs to be isolated! She has been exposed!”
Massimov stood dumbfounded as the unfolding events overwhelmed him. He knew that Anna needed to be quarantined, but he found himself at a loss for words.
“He is right,” Mamani agreed. “She needs to be secured and isolated.”
“What are you talking about?” Anna asked in a frightened tone. She was frantically wiping away the vomit from her face with a small towel.
Realizing the danger now posed by Anna, Massimov said to the E.R. doctor, “Pavlov, we need to get this young woman isolated and restrained. Immediately!”
The woman on the gurney let out one last sickening belch as the remaining oxygen escaped from her lungs. With the final rancid breath leaving the bloodied body, the warning tone from the heart monitor began to sound off, announcing the woman’s death. Her torso immediately went limp and her head fell to one side; the vomit still oozing from her mouth and nose with her eyes wide open.
“Get the crash cart over here!” Pavlov yelled at the attendants. “We’ve got to intubate her right now!” Pavlov turned to Massimov. With an expression of disbelief on his face he asked, “What in the hell is going on out there? Why in God’s name do we have to restrain Anna? And what were you saying about super rabies?” Pavlov turned to look at the frightened attendants. “Get the defibrillator ready!”
The Emergency Room staff quickly surrounded the gurney as several of them began to perform CPR on the woman. Mamani quickly put on some latex gloves and was desperately trying to stop some of the bleeding. That’s when Anna bent over and started screaming out in pain as she clutched at her stomach.
“Quickly, get her on a gurney and restrain her!” Mamani yelled. She grabbed one of the attendants by his shirt collar and shoved him in the direction of an empty gurney. “Hurry! She is showing signs of infection!”
The frightened attendant looked at her in disbelief. Seeing that the attendant was petrified with fear, Roberts sprang into action and grabbed the gurney, pushing it right up to Anna. He grabbed the stricken nurse by her shoulders and forcibly threw her on top of the gurney. “Michael, get over here and help me!”
Hearing his call for help, Michael ran up to Roberts and the two strapped Anna down to the gurney. She was writhing in pain and her cries turned into shrieks.
“Take her to the back to Room Three and keep her isolated!” Mamani yelled at the scared attendant. “Now!”
Without saying anything, the attendant hurriedly wheeled the screaming
and yelling Anna away to another examination room. He made sure to get lost in the back of the E.R., not wanting to be a part of whatever was going on up front. A second male attendant nervously began to carefully scoop out the vomit from the woman’s mouth as he fed a breathing tube down her throat. Suddenly, the dead woman began to convulse again.
“We got her back!” yelled the attendant. “Wait…uh, wait.” He was looking over at the monitor screen. “Doctor Pavlov, we don’t have a pulse!”
“What?” Pavlov went over to the monitor to check it. He looked at the flat line and said, “This is impossible.” The woman continued to thrash about in silence and the attendant who was attempting to intubate her quickly jumped back, pulling the tube out of her throat as he did. It was at that moment when everyone standing around the gurney noticed the woman’s eyes. They were clouded over in a milky white film. A stunned silence fell over the room. Shocked and perplexed at the same time, the attendant who was holding the tube stepped up closer to look at the woman. He didn’t realize that his arm was right next to her mouth.
In an instant, the silence was quickly replaced by a scream as the dead woman sank her teeth down into the left forearm of the surprised attendant.
“Serik, get away from her!” Pavlov yelled at the attendant.
He pulled away from the woman, but flesh and muscle were torn from his arm as he shrieked. Blood splattered down onto the white tile floor.
Michael pulled Irene away from the group as Pavlov rushed over to the injured man. A large chunk of his anterior forearm was missing and blood was gushing out. The woman chewed on the flesh and began to yank and pull at her bonds. She started to scream unintelligibly and the gurney was rocking back and forth. Her yells and shrieks sounded gravely, with the presence of fluid or phlegm gurgling in the back of the throat. It was sickening and it was unnerving.
The wounded attendant jumped away from the gurney and clutched his savaged arm as he braced himself against the wall. He began to yell and curse.
A Glimpse Of Decay (Book 1): Red Storm) Page 10