After the Cure, Deirdre Gould [the beach read TXT] 📗

think the test was going exactly as planned until the video I’m about to show you.” Dr. Pazzo paused and leaned toward them over the table. His expression was solemn. “I think this day was when the Plague actually began.”

Nella felt a painful tide of tight goosebumps cascade down her arm and over her wounded hand.

The screen blinked and a haggard Dr. Pazzo appeared. His eyes had great dark pouches beneath them and his jaw was shadowed with a patchy brown beard. He scrubbed his face with one hand. Nella thought he looked overly stressed for someone with a flawless experiment and she began to grow suspicious.

“Um . . . Okay. This is video diary number . . . 69. There is nothing new to report, all quiet on the monkey front. Seriously Gerta, I don’t know why we need to be doing round the clock observation when we’re filming all this. And when are you going to show up for your shift? Ann and I are ragged.” Young Dr. Pazzo shrugged. “You won’t even look at this tape anyway. But I’ll make the morning report regardless.” Dr. Pazzo’s face split into a bitter grin. He held up a clipboard. “Okay, the animals are consistent in their activity, logging three more hours on average of play movement. Their natural sleep cycles are still reduced to three point five hours . . .” Dr. Pazzo kept talking but Nella completely forgot to listen. Behind the haggard figure of the scientist was the window into the animal room. The cages had been moved and Nella could see a climbing habitat with several monkeys actively interacting. In the center of the habitat, sitting on the floor, was Ann. She was asleep in the contaminated room in her street clothes. As Nella watched, Ann stirred and yawned.

“Oh my god.”

“What is it?” asked Mr. Courtlen. He had obviously been listening to Dr. Pazzo’s report. Nella got up and walked to the television. She skipped the video back a few seconds and pointed with a shaking finger to Ann. Nella stood mesmerized as the video reeled on. Ann got up and exited the animal room. Dr. Pazzo was continuing his report, completely oblivious to the fact that his intern was now carrying the special strep strain on her clothes, her breath, her sweat. Mr. Courtlen began to stand as he watched the figure of Ann walk up behind Dr. Pazzo, as if he could somehow physically stop what had happened. Ann reached an arm around the shoulder of Dr. Pazzo and she kissed his ear suggestively. Nella winced thinking of the thousands of bacterium that had just been introduced directly into Dr. Pazzo’s system.

Dr. Pazzo turned toward Ann. “Hey,” he hissed, “Not on camera.”

“Oh relax,” she said, smiling broadly, “No one is ever going to watch this disc and you know it.”

Dr. Pazzo relented and turned toward Ann and kissed her on the mouth. Nella felt nauseous. She walked slowly back toward the table and sank unsteadily into her seat. Dr. Pazzo was looking down at his hands, not raising his eyes to see either their reaction or his younger self in love upon the screen.

“How did you get so much energy?” asked Dr. Pazzo, still oblivious. “I’m completely wiped out.”

“I have my ways,” Ann grinned mischievously, “No sign of Dr. Schneider?”

“No. I don’t think she’s showing up today. Listen, do you mind taking a turn for a while at the computers? I’m so tired of staring at screens. If I could just get an hour’s nap I’ll be okay.”

“Sure,” said Ann brightly, still hanging on his hip. The two walked out of frame and the camera was left watching monkeys swing and climb through the glass window.

Nella turned to look at the prisoner. “You think this was the first time Ann went into the animal room without a suit?”

Dr. Pazzo shook his head but didn’t look up from his hands. “No, but it is the first evidence I can find of it. From her incubation period and the alteration of the monkeys’ behavior, she must have been infected for two weeks before this video.”

“How can that be?” asked Mr. Courtlen, “You said that you taped everything.”

Now Dr. Pazzo looked up and Nella saw his thin face drawn even tighter with anger. “When Dr. Schneider was on shift, she took the camera into the lab so she could talk continuously to it and document her work. Any of those shifts Ann could have gone into the animal room. I know Dr. Schneider was the one that persuaded her to do it in the first place.”

“Why? Why would Dr. Schneider risk Ann or even her experimental results by infecting a human?” Nella asked.

“Dr. Schneider was convinced the bacteria was rendered harmless, and all the results seemed to be showing that. But she was impatient. The tests would have had to continue for months, years maybe before human trials could begin. She wanted her results now, not later. So Dr. Schneider left us alone to do round the clock observations for longer and longer periods. And then, when we would go home for some sleep there would inevitably be some trivial ‘emergency’ just a few hours later and we’d be called back in. She was hoping one of us would crack from the exhaustion. We were both bordering on irrational at that point. If Ann hadn’t been persuaded to take advantage of the ‘free boost’ of dopamine in the animal room, then I eventually would have made a mistake. With my suit or the door or a sample. Infection was pretty much inevitable. And Dr. Schneider made sure of that.”

Mr. Courtlen shook his head. “I don’t understand. You said the experiment was going smoothly. How did we go from happy, besotted, alert interns to- well, to enraged cannibal?”

Dr. Pazzo scratched his cheek as he thought about his answer. Nella wondered if he were getting ready to lie.

“Of course, I can’t be sure because by the time I realized what was going on, I didn’t have time to conduct a real laboratory examination, not the kind I would want to do. But my guess is that either one of the monkeys or Ann herself were carriers of a competing strain of strep bacteria. Either that, or the strain we had infected the monkeys with just mutated as it passed into a human. It caused swelling in the brain. That’s why the first symptoms were shambling or uncoordinated movement. It was followed by aggression and eventually uncontrollable pica- cannibalism in this case.”

“And it couldn’t be cured because you used an antibiotic resistant strain,” sighed Nella.

Dr. Pazzo raised his hands and held his head, pulling at the thin strands of hair that were left on his scarred skull. “That’s not the worst of it,” he mumbled. Nella was startled to find herself empathizing with the man’s distress, even after his nastiness.

“What do you mean?” asked Mr. Courtlen.

“Normally when people get a strep infection they manifest symptoms within three days, like sore throats, colds, earaches, rashes. Things that would send people to their doctors. With a normal strep infection the medical community would have been alerted very quickly. With this strain, nothing happened for four to six weeks. Even I didn’t see it until week five or six in Ann and I was trained to look for it.” Dr. Pazzo stopped talking and took great shuddering breaths. Nella thought he must be crying.

“Jesus. Five weeks. How many international flights could have delivered the Plague in that amount of time?” Mr. Courtlen sat stunned.

Not just planes and boats and cars, Nella thought, How many crowded movie theaters and shopping centers is that? How many hospital waiting rooms when symptoms did start being recognized?

“The world had already died by the time I found out. It just didn’t know it yet,” Dr. Pazzo sobbed, and Nella felt a pang of sympathy for him, “What was I supposed to do? What good would warning people do? It was already too late.”

“Maybe we should take a break,” suggested Nella in a gentle voice. Dr. Pazzo was still audibly weeping and Mr. Courtlen looked shell shocked and was completely still. Nella stood up. She gently squeezed Frank’s shoulder as she passed behind him. He shook himself.

“Yes I think that’s a good idea. Robert, perhaps we should call it a day. I’m sure Dr. Rider can ask the nurse to give you something to help you sleep.”

Dr. Pazzo laughed bitterly. “Why should I get to sleep peacefully Frank? When everyone else is troubled. I know how rare sedatives are these days. Since I am the author of all this,” he raised his hands and spread his arms around him, “why should I be the one that sleeps? Besides, we can’t stop now. There is no time.”

And for the first time Nella felt a cool stone of nervous doubt at the base of her throat. Maybe he wasn’t bluffing.

“At least let’s take a break then. We’ll come back in an hour okay?”

Dr. Pazzo nodded looking defeated. “Yes, that’s acceptable,” he said, “but we need to finish the diaries today. We can talk about what happens next tomorrow.”

The stone in Nella’s throat grew heavier and icy. “I thought you said we had enough time,” said Nella.

“We do. All the time that’s left in the world.” Dr. Pazzo stood up from the table and shuffled down the hall toward his cell. Frank stared after him and then shook his head. He looked around and saw Nella still standing behind him. He smiled to break the tension.

“Come on,” he said, “I’ll buy you the worst lunch you’ve ever eaten.”

Nella laughed and immediately felt better. “I don’t know,” she said, “I’ve seen some pretty rough times in the past eight years. It can’t be as bad as the medical camp food.”

“Want to bet?” he said and walked with her toward the cafeteria.

 

"We Never Even had a Chance."

It really was one of the worst meals Nella had eaten in a long while. She didn’t care. The cafeteria was bright and open after the windowless cell block. A few administrative personnel and infirmary staff were scattered over the area, but for the most part she and Mr. Courtlen were isolated from the quiet conversations of the others.

Nella looked at the shriveled pile of canned fruit on her plate. She sighed and then laughed.

“What is it?” asked Frank

“I was just thinking how much I miss bananas. A peanut butter and banana sandwich. I think I miss bananas more than I missed hot showers.”

“Hmm, I don’t know if I would go that far, but a banana would be pretty wonderful. I never would have imagined that I would go almost a decade without fresh tropical fruit. I wonder what parents feed their infants now?”

Nella poked the shrunken pear with her fork. “Not this I hope. Maybe after the trial I’ll buy a boat and sail to New Guinea and start