“We need to get out of here...” his assistant trailed off, clearly still stunned by what had happened.
He looked at Diasuke, “What happened? How did the virus get free?”
Diasuke looked blankly at nothing, in a deep trance-like state, staring at the glass window that was the only thing holding back Dr. Fumio's other assistant. His infected assissant was beating against the glass, trying to break through. Watching his former assistant, he once again became fascinated but also perplexed. He watched again as the infection fought on to try to get free and infect someone else, anyone to keep the infection going.
He decided it was time to try to use the red phone and contact someone at the other end. Leaving Diasuke in the separate room, he went to his office and quickly grabbed the phone. No dial tone was heard, only absolute empty silence. It seemed, for now, there was going to be no help.
Chapter 5
The next day Dr. Fumio sat down at his desk, woke up his terminal, locating the new chat system that had been installed remotely. It was an instant messaging system, but not like one used for simple chats with friends. This one was formal, and everything about it said government. He didn't have to log into it, instead, it just showed who his contacts were.
There was only one listed, and again to prove the point that this was government ran the contact wasn't a name, but a lab number. Dr. Fumio assumed that whomever the message would go to would see the same thing. He knew the government hated giving names out, but he felt uncomfortable calling his new colleague by a number.
Greetings,
I am Dr. Fumio, head virologist of this lab. I wanted to say I am happy to be working with another lab, and I hope that together we can make progress on our project. I will forward an attachment of all our data compiled by my lab, please look at it and send me any feedback or questions you have.
Regards,
Dr. Fumio
Attaching the file containing his lab's data he couldn’t help but feel odd sending his work to someone else. He pressed the send button, watching as it appeared in the chat box. He picked up his mug of coffee, taking a sip. A little beep emanated from his monitor, with a message in the chat box.
Dr. Fumio,
I am glad to be working with your lab as well. We will compile our data and send it shortly. I apologize for the wait on the data, our lab moved, and we only just arrived at our new location. I was informed that starting tomorrow we will be receiving more information and data tomorrow about the origin of the project, I will alert you when it has become available.
Dr. Akio
He got up, grabbed his mug, having a feeling things were finally going to start to work out. He felt that with his lab and the other lab working together they could eventually figure the virus out and begin working towards a cure or vaccine. Dr. Fumio began his day in a good mood, with the only word to describe it; hopeful.
✽ ✽ ✽
The next day Dr. Fumio was a little less optimistic because he still hadn't made any headway. The virus itself seemed to adapt to him poking and prodding it. As he returned from the lab, he decided to check to see if there were any new messages left by Dr. Akio. To his joy there was.
Dr. Fumio,
Attached is our lab's data, and I have looked over your lab's data. I have one of my assistants comparing them both to outline the difference to correct our outcomes closer to yours. It seems that with our corrected data we may have learned a small portion of the RNA, and we are currently running tests to split the strand and break it down. We will update you on our findings; as well please find attached the second file the information about the project origin.
Dr. Akio
Dr. Fumio quickly opened both files, scanning the data from the other lab, it was mostly the same, with only a few minor differences. Those differences, however, were the point between what did and didn't work. He skimmed over most of it, promising himself to check it thoroughly later.
His attention was drawn to the second file, one containing the origin information. Finding an origin point of a virus made it exponentially easier to figure out how it worked. Again, he stared at the file, but this time, he could view all of the document. He read it twice, committing it to memory, as he felt the information was valuable.
He ran it through his head multiple times. The remote research team was in Siberia, more specifically they were housed on the Severnaya Zemlya islands. Most of the islands were glacier covered, and with recent reports of global warming, teams were sent to monitor the ice. There were already meteorological bases there, but why they sent a virology team was beyond him.
The report claimed that a team was dispatched after reports of an infection caused people to attack each other, had broken out at the meteorology base. The team found no one alive and was forced to kill four live infected. The United States, hand in hand with the Russian government, cleaned the site and left no trace of the virus. Samples were taken by both governments working together to understand better how the virus worked.
Noted further on, the Russian government contacted the United States claiming that their research team had become infected and they had lost all data and samples. The United States had also abandoned the project after a couple of months of fruitless research. Six months later it was proposed to send it to Japan to work on the project, pending payment from the United States and Russia. A month later it was accepted, and the project moved to Japan.
In almost two and a half years they had yet to make any progress on it, and it had passed through the best hands three different countries had. It discouraged Dr. Fumio even more, but at the same time drove him to be the first one to discover its secrets. He, at least, knew the origin point of the virus and could begin comparing the DNA with other life forms of the area to see any were a close match. He hoped he could find an animal that the virus originated from and could start there.
Chapter 6
He put the phone back down and picked it up, hoping to get a dial tone. There was still only silence, and he began to panic. What if no one came for them? Once the decontamination room had been triggered the door to the outside world sealed itself. They were trapped in a self-contained room with limited food and an infected person.
Dr. Fumio checked his terminal to see if he still had a connection; he didn't. He tried refreshing the connection, and it returned the same error. He checked all the cords to the terminal to make sure they were secure; all the cords were secured tightly. He refreshed the connection once more; still, the error persisted.
His level of frustration was beyond what he had ever felt before. Panic and frustration quickly turned into anger, balling his hands into fists, taking a swing at the side of his monitor. Dr. Fumio immediately regretted the decision, as he did more harm to himself than the monitor. He held his hand, comforting the pain that jolted all along his arm.
He noticed that he had somehow split open the skin between his knuckles, and it began to bleed. Cursing himself, embarrassed for letting his anger get the best of him, he got up to grab the first aid kit in the bathroom. Once he was in the main room again he could see his assistant had yet to move, still entranced. Dr. Fumio felt as though he was completely alone, with no help to get out.
He went into the bathroom, opening the first aid kit and began the steps to clean it and bandage the wound. The peroxide stung as he poured a liberal amount on it. He then smeared antibacterial cream to prevent anything from getting into the cut. Placing a bandage over that he then wrapped his hand with gauze to further protect it.
He stared at himself in the mirror, wondering what he was going to do. What could he do? The door to the outside world was sealed, and even if he wanted to try, he knew that there was no way that he could force his way through. He attempted to calm himself down, after all, they had a protocol for events like this.
The government would send in a hazmat team, quarantine them, and cleanse the lab. They would have to be watched for a week to make sure they weren't carrying any viruses out of the qu
arantine, and then things would go back to normal. It was only a matter of waiting until they arrived, and the rest of taken care of.
It was out of his hands now, and someone else's problem to deal with. Even knowing that he couldn't wholly calm himself down, and he quickly started to panic. Deciding to keep his mind busy with other things, he began doing a mental check of everything they needed.
Dr. Fumio started his checklist with water, checking to make sure they had plenty to last them in case the government was held up. He went into the break room which also held a small kitchen, along with two vending machines. Luckily for them, the vending machines were free, so all he had to do was press the buttons and watch the food and drinks fall to the bottom of the machine. There was also a water cooler which was only half used, and a replacement jug next to it. They had the food and water to last them for several days before he would have to start worrying.
He started to calm down now knowing that they, at least, were in no immediate danger of starving. Sitting down at the table he had been talking to both his assistants at no more than a day before, Dr. Fumio sighed. So much had happened since then, it was scary to think about what would have happened if the virus had escaped. It would become his new life, scavenging for food and water.
They had already lost one lab, and now this one was contaminated too. Dr. Fumio remembered how the man on the other end of the phone told him that a couple of infected had gotten out of the other lab, but that they had cleared out the infection. He could only hope it was true.
Chapter 7
Dr. Fumio was excited that together with his lab and Dr. Akio's lab, had been semi-successful in analyzing a portion of the virus' RNA. It held a common ancestry to human RNA but was very different than that of a modern human. However, they were still months away from being able to fully understand the virus and begin to counteract it using a vaccine or cure. He could feel a change in mood as they had finally started to jump over the hurdles to unlocking its secrets.
As Dr. Fumio sat down at his desk to calculate more data that he had just acquired, the phone on his desk rang. It made him jump, not anticipating the phone to ring.
“Hello,” he answered quizzically.
“Dr. Fumio, I have two things we need to talk about. I have already spoken to Dr. Akio, so he is on the same page as you. The lab that we lost to the virus, some infected escaped from the quarantined area, they’ve been contained, but we fear civilians in the nearby town could have been infected. With that information, we need you to work until you have results, in either a vaccine or cure for the public. This is a top priority,” a heavy sigh from the man on the other end of the phone.
“If we have no way of containing this virus, once it's free there is no way we can stop it. We can only slow its progress and get as many my people to safety as we can. Realistically, how long would it be until we could begin to produce any vaccine or cure?”
Dr. Fumio hesitated, “Well...it could...uh...”
“Tell me, and don't toy with me. I need to know how long. If it's soon, that's good. If not, I need to start making phone calls,” said the man sternly.
“Well,” Dr. Fumio started, “You should probably make some phone calls then. We have barely started to figure it out as of yesterday. It will take several months to map the RNA fully and then we could start talking about making a vaccine.”
A long silence, followed by a sigh, “Work night and day, but we need something. The virus is deadly, and an outbreak would be nearly impossible to stop.”
“We are already working on it. I will implement a sleep schedule to make sure someone is always working. I fully understand what we are up against.”
“Good, I will check on your progress every three days,” said the man wearily.
The phone went dead, and Dr. Fumio was left to himself in his office once more. He hadn't lied when he said he understood what an outbreak could mean. Back when he was teaching in school, they once got a study group together to replicate the conditions of a deadly viral outbreak. They predicted that from patient zero up to one hundred infected would take close to two days maximum. The next day could be up to five hundred, the next two thousand, beyond that the factors differed, as with all viruses. If the infected host was blocked by geographic means, it could take another week to hit critical numbers, but if it were unhindered, and were introduced to a fresh supply of healthy hosts to infect, such as a metropolitan area, then it would reach critical the next day.
The problem with this virus compared to a normal one was that the infected host sought out healthy ones. That sped up the timetable significantly. It honestly scared him, and the thought of an outbreak made him thankful that he was safe and secure in the lab. Nothing could enter the lab without entering the numeric code and using the biometric scan.
The lab itself was in a hospital, an old toxicology lab that had been bought by the government and refurbished. It was a terrible location to house such a lab, but as such in Tokyo space was a luxury, so they had to take it where they could get it. Naturally, no one that worked at the hospital even knew what was going on in the lab, and Dr. Fumio had made sure never really to talk to anyone at the hospital.
Theoretically, if the power stayed on they could keep working too, but they would have to scavenge food from the hospital. Dr. Fumio wondered how long they could last inside the lab. At least, inside the lab, they could ride out the worst of the outbreak, and then contact the government using his terminal. He wasn't worried about being in the lab, after all, it was safe.
Chapter 8
It seemed time was at a standstill; no matter how long it felt had passed the clock hands didn't move far. Dr. Fumio looked at the thick glass that separated the common area from the lab. He watched as his former assistant shambling about, looking for something else to infect. His still breathing assistant, Diasuke, was still curled up in a ball on the ground, traumatized by his time spent with his infected co-worker.
Dr. Fumio had attempted to snap Diasuke back to reality several times, each time with no success. He began to wonder if he even could. Dr. Fumio's stomach grumbled, so he decided to grab some food from the vending machine in the kitchen. Chewing, he threw the wrapper seeing how far it would go, tossing it towards the trashcan as he left the room.
“Daisuke!” He called, trying to break the man's stupor.
Still no reply from his assistant. Dr. Fumio gave up once more, closing his eyes. He sat against the wall, leaning his head back. He was already losing his mind; he had nothing to do. He thought about what he would say and do once the government came to rescue him.
He started to play it out in his head, the door opened, and four men in hazmat suits would come in, ushering them to a containment shower, scrubbing them down. They would place them in individual confined rooms that allowed doctors to monitor them, looking for any symptoms of an infection. After a week, if they showed no signs, they would be readmitted into the public.
Diasuke might have to go into a mental health ward for help. Dr. Fumio would go back to his work, knowing that they still needed him to work towards a breakthrough. Eventually, this would be something unfortunate that happened at work, nothing more. Once he did finally make a cure or vaccine, he would have enough money to retire if he wanted.
He thought of how many lives he could save by stopping one of the deadliest virus humanity had never seen. Well, he hoped that the public had never seen it. He wasn't sure if the government had successfully quarantined the small outbreak at the other lab or not. He hadn't spoken to anyone outside the lab for almost three days now.
The last person he had talked to was Dr. Akio, who had informed him that as a precaution they had moved several higher up government officials to his location. All he knew about his location was that it was an underground government bunker. Dr. Akio said that the officials had the look of pure terror in their eyes as they were ushered in, but none of them were willing to speak about what was happening outside.
Things didn't sound
good, but he had told the man on the other end of the phone that if the virus was free that it wouldn't be good for the nation. He still has his faith, though; he had to, he had to believe someone was on their way to rescue them.
✽ ✽ ✽
Dr. Fumio stared at the ceiling, his head laying on his arms. He thought about all the things he missed on the outside. It was stupid to think about, knowing it wouldn't help. He didn't want to stop, though.
He had been inside the lab for almost a week and four days straight now. He missed the feel of a breeze on his face. The mystic wonders of city smells, both good and bad. He also missed the sun shining down on his face, bringing warmth to it.
He had only been trapped inside for a day, since the quarantine started, but that was all it took was one day to make him realize he was in a prison cell. The walls felt closer every time he looked at the ceiling a little shorter. The air started to have a musky dryness to it, the air recycled one too many times. The food began to become less and less appetizing each time he thought about having to eat it.
Dr. Fumio closed his eyes and breathed heavily, hoping to clear his mind of such constricting thoughts. It didn't work as he opened his eyes, casually looking around, checking to make sure nothing was different, other than the room size. Even his assistant was still there; this time, he was sleeping lying on his side.
He wondered if the man would ever be the same. Probably not, I mean how could he, after losing his friend to the virus, and more than likely his friend tried to infect him. Dr. Fumio fully understood the mental distress he was going through, but he needed Diasuke to snap out of it. For both of their mental states.
What Remains (Book 2): Quarantine Page 15