Pathological

by Jinkang Wang

  The discussion was over, but Deputy Mayor Jin hadn’t dismissed them, instead asking them to remain in their places and take a little break. The smokers were beginning to get desperate, and now quickly got their cigarettes out, and after a bit of polite to-ing and fro-ing at the door, plumes of smoke were rising outside the room. Director He from the Central Hospital said to his neighbor, the head of the Traffic Department, “Our new deputy mayor has quite a talent for acting. Did you see how he kept a straight face for three or four hours, as if there really was an epidemic?” Department Head Guo laughingly replied, “If there really was an outbreak, he’d have sent us out, rather than keeping us here kicking our heels! Besides, if this was for real, would the epidemic department head really be absent? We’d be letting him call the shots.”

  The only person in the meeting who knew what was going on was the epidemic department secretary—the unit head and Yang were off carrying out their tests. But Jin had made it clear that until there were confirmed results, news of the real infection was not to be revealed, so the secretary could only listen to the discussion without saying a word, now and then exchanging a long and meaningful glance with the deputy mayor.

  It was just past noon, and the civil servants were done for the day. From the conference room, they could be heard chatting as they clattered down the corridor. Deputy Mayor Jin kept a poker face, and still did not dismiss them—the room began to grow restless, the conversations grinding to a halt, as everyone stared at their leader. The deputy mayor looked calm, but his heart was on fire. They were just waiting for a call from the Anti-Infection Unit, and if it was good news, he’d laugh and tell everyone, Thank you for taking part in today’s exercise, you’re free to go now! Thus avoiding any unnecessary panic. But if it was bad news, they’d have to put the plan they’d just agreed on into action right away. Finally, his cell phone rang. He stepped out of the room before accepting the call. Hearing Unit Chief Lin’s report, he went back inside, and said with a grim smile, “You must all be thinking that what happened today was just an exercise, and I wish that were the case too. Unfortunately, it isn’t. The Health Department’s Anti-Infection Unit, I should say the CDC, has just verified a smallpox outbreak in Nanyang, originating at an orphanage within the city limits. The virus might have been brought back from America by its director, Ms. Mei.”

  There was a painful silence, broken only by a slight cough that was immediately muffled. Deputy Mayor Jin exchanged glances again with the secretary, and went on levelly. “Emergency measures will be taken right away, following the plan we’ve just decided upon. Each department knows what to do. I’ll inform the Armed Police now, and they’ll coordinate with our activities.”

  Mei Yin and her husband weren’t home yet, and he still couldn’t get through to them, but their route was already under surveillance by HQ by means of the toll booths that littered the whole country. Through the State Council, the Command Center had been able to send an urgent notification to all toll booths and gas stations: if you see a black Lifan, registration R-C5360, give them free passage and gas, and notify the Nanyang Epidemic Control Center immediately. Not long after this bulletin was put out, a report came in to say the car had passed through a toll gate in Sichuan, its windows shut, the tinted screen on the left window ripped off, and the passenger holding a piece of paper ripped from a notebook, on which were scrawled some words in large ballpoint writing: “Highly Infectious Patient.” The toll attendant’s first reaction was that these people were trying to get through without paying, with an unusually inventive trick. But then she saw that the two people in the car appeared wealthy, and it seemed unlikely they’d wreck that expensive window shade just to evade some tolls. After a moment’s hesitation, she decided to give them the benefit of the doubt. Collecting ten yuan more or less was no big deal, better not to risk getting some awful illness. And so, reluctantly, she raised the barrier.

  Hearing this news, Jin Mingcheng couldn’t help cracking a smile. Mei Yin and Jingshuan were being smart about this, so he could stop worrying. After this, everything went smoothly, reports coming in from toll booths and gas stations, making it clear the car was speeding toward Nanyang and had made it as far Xiangfan, not quite a hundred miles away—they would be here within an hour. Deputy Mayor Jin urgently looked forward to their return, partly so he could understand more about how this had happened, and partly because Mei Yin was a first-rate virologist, and he’d feel more secure having her around. There was one other consideration: if Mei Yin could return to the orphanage, it would benefit the children’s emotional state, since he knew what affection they had for her.

  Deputy Mayor Jin had no way of knowing that one other person was also hurrying toward Nanyang at the moment, and his arrival would cause an even greater storm.

  At seven o’clock on the second evening of the epidemic, after nightfall, Mei Yin and her husband arrived back in Nanyang. The city was under lockdown, with police cars parked across the roads, their lights flashing, and masked officers blocking oncoming traffic and sending it away without exception. Two armed policemen stood on alert by the roadside. Mei Yin stopped and rolled down her window. An officer had already taken note of her registration, stepped forward and bowed, then passed a walkie-talkie into the car, waving them on. Mei Yin started the engine with one hand, pressing “Speak” with the other. “Hello, is this Deputy Mayor Jin? We’re back in the city, heading to the orphanage.”

  “Jin here. Good journey?”

  “It was fine. We didn’t come into contact with anyone, just ate the food we already had and drove through toll booths all the way.”

  “How are you both feeling?”

  “No symptoms. How are things in the zone?”

  “Fairly positive. Only two serious cases, including Mei Xiaoxue at the orphanage. More than a thousand suspected cases, but symptoms are mild. Experts from the Anti-Infection Unit are puzzled by this.”

  “Is Mei Xiaoxue . . . Forget it, we’re almost at the orphanage.”

  The car zoomed past the second ring of defenses, a more forbidding barrier than the outer circle, the air filled with the thick scent of carbolic acid, and the police there were dressed in thick white cotton-padded protective gear, with face masks, looking like a group of astronauts. The streets were desolate, without a single pedestrian, and if not for the flashing police lights and stiff-looking officers, they could have been entering an abandoned city. Seeing the car approach, the police waved them on from some distance away. The Lifan was able to pull straight into the orphanage courtyard, where two guards were holding two sets of protective gear for them. Mei Yin opened the door and declined with a smile. “Thank you, but we won’t be needing those. If we were going to be infected, it would have happened long ago.”

  One of the astronauts was Dr. Zhou from the Anti-Infection Unit. His voice muffled behind his full-face mask, he insisted, “At least wear something over your mouths.”

  “No, there really is no need.”

  Sun Jingshuan emerged from the passenger seat, and also politely declined. “Yes, we don’t need these. We’re resistant. Now please take us to see the patients.”

  Dr. Zhou led them in, explaining that of the thirty-four people in the orphanage, fourteen hadn’t been affected, and they’d been taken away once that was verified. The other twenty were past the incubation period, but their symptoms were fairly mild, which caused them some puzzlement, because the strain of smallpox spread by the terrorists in America had been virulent.

  Mei Yin said nothing to this. They entered a dorm, where Mother Liu was staying with sixteen of the girls, while Mother Chen and the boys were in another room. It was obvious that no one told them that Mei Yin would be arriving, and everyone froze as she entered, only reacting a few seconds later: “Director Mei!” “Mommy Mei!” “Mommy Mei’s back!”

  The children rushed toward her. Mother Liu screamed, “Don’t come in! Director Mei, put on your protective gear!” But it was too late, and Mei Yin smiled and waved her conc
erns away as she pulled the children to her bosom. Jingshuan was also beaming, hugging two little girls, kissing them on the cheek. Mei Yin studied their symptoms. Blisters on the head, but fairly sparse and shallow. The fever had abated after symptoms appeared, and they were in good spirits. The orphans were gabbling away nonstop, all trying to push forward and squeeze into Mei Yin’s hug, wanting her to stroke their faces too. Mei Yin’s eyes were teary, and she said, over and over, “You’re all fine, I can stop worrying. You’ll all be better soon, don’t be afraid. Until you’re well again, Mommy Mei will stay here and keep you company, all right?”

  The children whooped and cheered.

  Then they visited the boys in the next room. Mei Yin said to the two mothers, “It’s been hard on you.”

  “We can deal with it. It’s worse for the children, especially Xiaoxue.”

  “Where is she? I want to see her.”

  Mother Liu led them to the room that had once been their bridal chamber. When they were alone, she carefully asked, “Director Mei, did you really bring the virus back with you from America?”

  Mei Yin turned to look at her, and said calmly, “Quite possibly. I wasn’t in the infection zone while I was in the States, but I did bump into someone at a meeting, and only later found out that he was the mastermind behind this terror attack. He might have . . .”

  She didn’t finish. Mother Liu sighed and asked no further questions.

  Xiaoxue, isolated in her room, had heard the cheers from outside, and by the time she saw Mommy Mei walking toward her, was in a frenzy of anticipation. The nurse caring for her barred the door, and warned her to stay in the room. Now she cried out, “Mommy Mei! Mommy Mei! Uncle Sun!”

  The couple hurried over and hugged Xiaoxue tightly. The girl buried her head deep in her Mommy’s embrace, and when she looked up again, tears were streaming down her face, soaking Mei Yin’s chest. Her symptoms were indeed severe, with red welts all over her body, some already swelling into blisters, and while her temperature was lower now, the earlier high fever had left her pale and unsteady, her eyes uncertain and her voice weak. Mei Yin clutched her face and sobbed. “Xiaoxue, how you’ve suffered. Don’t worry, you’ll definitely get better. Mommy Mei will stay with you until you’re well.”

  Mei Xiaoxue’s eyes brightened. This had been her secret desire for many years now, though she’d been hesitant to tell anyone—just sleeping in the same bed as Mommy Mei, leaning on her bosom, all the pleasures she’d never enjoyed as an actual child. And if this illness could bring her such happiness, then she’d think it was worth it. Timidly, she asked, “Mommy Mei, will you stay here tonight?”

  “Yes, I’ll sleep here beside you.”

  “Ah, no, you’ll get infected!” Suddenly remembering this point, she quickly squirmed out of Mei Yin’s embrace and said anxiously, “Mommy Mei, why aren’t you wearing protective clothes? You’ll get sick!”

  Mei Yin smiled, and wrapped her arms around the girl again. “Don’t worry about it. Mommy and Uncle Sun have immunity. Really, it’s the truth.”

  Xiaoxue relaxed, and only now turned her attention to the neglected Uncle Sun. Tilting her head to one side in thought, she said, “Mommy Mei, you can keep us company during the day, but at night you ought to be together with Uncle Sun.”

  Jingshuan tweaked her little nose. “Clever little devil, trust you to think of that. But Mommy Mei can keep you company, and I’ll stick with Mei Xiaokai and the other boys.”

  Only now did Xiaoxue let herself believe that the happiness she’d longed for was about to descend upon her. Enchanted, her eyes sparkled brilliantly.

  That night, Mei Yin hugged Xiaoxue as they slept, the girl’s face pressed against her Mommy’s chest. Xiaoxue was almost drunk with happiness, and stayed silent for a long time. Suddenly, she looked up and said, “Mommy Mei, I want to ask you something, is that all right?”

  “Of course. Ask away.”

  Xiaoxue summoned her courage. “Mommy Mei, are you my real mother?”

  Mei Yin paused. “Just treat me as if I am, all right?”

  This wasn’t enough for Xiaoxue, who sighed with disappointment. Once again, Mei Yin felt a jolt of pity, and held the child tighter, quietly worrying for her. Xiaoxue’s red blisters were now appearing, and soon her temperature would shoot up again, and the blisters would become sunken pockmarks; then her fever would rise even more, and the blisters would fill with pus, which might lead to sepsis. The vaccine had come too late, and the antibodies wouldn’t do her much good. She’d only be able to rely on her own natural resistance, the immunity granted by the Creator to every living thing. Death was unlikely, but she wouldn’t escape without severe scarring. Of course, these days you could get extremely effective plastic surgery, with special dermabrasion to get rid of the pockmarks. The results would be good, though her face would never again be her own. Now, Xiaoxue snuggled contentedly into Mei Yin’s bosom, under the wing of her mother love, still unaware of the tragedy that was to come. Poor Xiaoxue.

  Mei Yin was the cause of Xiaoxue’s sickness. She’d anticipated that this epidemic would have a few serious cases, and even a few deaths, which was unavoidable. Although she understood all this from a theoretical standpoint, she was still filled with guilt about Xiaoxue. At this moment, she made an important personal decision. Turning Xiaoxue’s face toward her, she looked straight into her eyes and said, “Xiaoxue, I have a plan. When you’re better, I want to put in the adoption paperwork. I want you to live with us, as my and Uncle Sun’s daughter. Will you agree?”

  Xiaoxue was stunned into silence at the unexpected arrival of such good fortune. “Real—really?”

  “Of course. Would Mommy Mei lie to you? I haven’t said anything to Uncle Sun yet, but I’m sure he’ll agree.”

  Xiaoxue was in shock for a long time, then suddenly flung her arms around Mei Yin’s neck, floods of tears streaming from her eyes. She cried so ferociously that Mei Yin was scared. Touching Xiaoxue’s face, she said, “Stop it, Xiaoxue, don’t cry. I know, you’re sad because you don’t want to be my daughter. All right, then forget I said anything, how about that?”

  Her teasing forced a tearful giggle from Xiaoxue, and she murmured, “Mommy. Mommy.”

  Already she was calling her by a different name. Mei Yin happily stroked her back, crooning, “Good girl, the most beautiful daughter in the world, the loveliest daughter.”

  They whispered together for a long time before Xiaoxue snuggled against her Mommy, and with both tears and smiles slipped into dreamland.

  It was eleven o’clock at night. Having set off from Wuhan in a taxi after dinner, Xue Yu was just reaching Nanyang. The news was out that it was an infection zone, and with SARS still fresh in everyone’s memory, no driver had been willing to take him there. He’d had to resort to pleading and offering a huge amount of money before one took pity on him, but even then the driver would only take him as far as the first barrier. The TV said this smallpox epidemic had been brought to China by a traveler who’d been visiting family in America. It was Mei Yin. She’d brought back the virus. Yet from the instant he heard the news, Xue Yu felt a sharp worry in his heart. He had to tell Ms. Mei his suspicions—that the source of infection wasn’t America, but General Manager Sun’s facility—otherwise all their preventative measures would prove useless. He phoned her frantically, but couldn’t get through, and Sun’s cell seemed to be off too. These worries weren’t anything he could share with the authorities, as they could only get Ms. Mei into trouble. Finally, there was nothing he could do but get a taxi to Nanyang, trusting that she would be heading back there as well.

  The taxi dropped him off at the boundary and immediately sped off in the opposite direction, the driver unwilling to linger even a moment. Xue Yu spoke to the police guard, and learning that Ms. Mei was back in the city, was able to momentarily set down the burden in his heart. He asked to see her, only to have the officer scold him. “Are you suicidal? You see what’s going on, and you want to barge into a quaran
tine zone?”

  Xue Yu protested that he really did have urgent business, and if they wouldn’t let him in, they should at least give him Ms. Mei’s current phone number. The officer said he didn’t know and couldn’t help. Xue Yu flew into a rage. “Listen, I might be able to stop the epidemic. This is important! If you won’t let me in, will you take responsibility when things get worse?”

  In the face of his stubbornness, the officer phoned his commander, then started a police car. “Get in, I’ll take you there.”

  The guard didn’t take him to Ms. Mei, but to the commander of the infection zone. The HQ had taken over Mei Xiaoxue’s middle school, not far from the orphanage. At the moment, a meeting was going on in a lecture hall, with several prominent officials including Deputy Director Zhang of the CDC—the youngest member of the director-level cadre in the whole of China, an intelligent and capable man who was expected to do well; an expert from the WHO—Noriyoshi Matsumoto, a courtly older Japanese man; the Nanyang council secretary and Mayor Tang; and Deputy Mayor Jin Mingcheng, who was chairing the meeting, as he held the Culture and Public Health portfolio. There was also a huge group of reporters, Chinese and foreign—far outnumbering the actual participants of the meeting—neatly seated in the back rows of the hall. It was an internal meeting, without simultaneous translation, so the various agencies had mostly sent along their best Mandarin-speaking reporters.