“Me too,” Hannah put in her two cents. “We’re working but in full safety gear. I hate it when we have to wear that crap.”
“None of . . . sick?” Raven asked, the signal getting weaker as they talked.
“Nope, we’re all fine. How ‘bout you?” Bobi inquired.
“Good, . . . co . . . “
“What was that? Connection sucks,” Bobi exclaimed.
“Cold, it’s . . . I’m . . . fire.” Raven replied. She hoped her words were getting through, as a degree of frustration was evident in her voice.
“Hang tough out there, girl. We’re fine -- so don’t worry. Get that book done so you can come home,” Mick encouraged.
“Wish . . . here,” Raven said, before the connection dropped and the line went dead.
The friends around the table looked at each other, sad that Raven was left alone to deal with the dark, the cold and the unknown.
Chapter 4
Five days after Raven Falconer left the city behind, the normal day-to-day activities of the average Canuck had ground to a halt. Her roommates sat glued to the television set, watching the morning news, each sipping something warm and wrapped up in blankets. Earlier in the broadcast the anchor had announced that the Canadian Government had shut down the airports, suspending any flights until the outbreak was contained and neutralized. However, the closing of airports and border crossings had come too late. Cities around the globe were manifesting the same phenomena and hysteria was reigning supreme. Less than a week since the first victims were infected, the nature of the disease had already taken a dramatic turn in its presentation and symptomatology; a troubling trend for researchers who had watched the number of infected approach 50%.
Hospitals were inundated with the sick and afflicted. A nation-wide call for calm was issued but rarely heeded. The blonde news anchor appeared worn out and haggard, a somewhat different appearance than earlier when she thought there had been something upbeat to report. She emphasized that the encouraging signs of the previous morning had suddenly turned dire, sending viewers, patients and doctors into a frenzy. The afflicted had begun to show improvements: less pulmonary edema and normalized breathing. It looked like the worst was over, however, specialists reported hours after the flu-like symptoms began to ease, the majority of patients reported moderate to severe headaches, which didn’t respond to non-narcotic painkillers. The symptoms escalated quickly and within hours deaths were being reported among those with compromised immune systems while the more hardy lapsed into unconsciousness or coma.
Brain scans of those that were holding on revealed some troubling news. The virus, initially targeting the general immune and respiratory systems, was eventually able to pass through the blood-brain barrier and attack healthy neural tissue. Crude but generally effective screening MRI’s, CT’s and EEG’s were performed as fast as the technicians could set up the equipment. All signs pointed to the same result. The virus, with an affinity for cerebral neurons, was attacking the cortex, bypassing the midbrain and cerebellum but killing the outer layers of the brain. The tired but still eager news woman went on to explain that the human cortex provides higher brain function including speech, thought and reasoning. Once the cortex is destroyed, the midbrain continues to control the body’s survival needs: eating, movement, sleep and other life-preserving functions. Those that survived the primary lung infection and secondary neurological attack could still walk and mentally function on a very low level but also demonstrated a heightened and almost aggressive need to eat and sleep. Early indications found irritability among the tertiary cases to be abnormally high for individuals with similar vegetative disorders.
Doctors around the world were throwing everything they could think of into the arteries of their patients. Some anti-viral medications seemed to slow the infection but they often had a difficult time crossing the brain barrier, rendering them less effective. The bottom line of the newscast was a call for people everywhere to stay in their homes. Police personnel, who were conscientious enough to show up to work, were patrolling and issuing curfew tickets for anyone venturing out without probable cause or a health-worker pass. Before the news crew delivered the last of their bad news, they offered one bit of hope. With the temperatures dropping and snowfall inevitable, the virus showed signs of weakening in its airborne state. This would reduce the chance of infection by a margin but caution was still the key. Lastly, and with a pathetic, apologetic tone, the anchor reported that The Canadian Trucker’s Union had issued a call for all of its members to cease work immediately. It was expected but still hard to hear. If panic was not already a way of life within the major Canadian cities, the next and final note of the broadcast was sure to get things really rolling. Grocery stores would soon be emptier than they already were. Gas would be rationed in hours and pharmaceuticals would be almost impossible to obtain by legal means. The announcement, just prior to signing off, seemed like a death sentence for those who were barely hanging on.
“What do we do, Mick?” Hannah asked, making no effort to get up from her spot on the couch.
“Hell, I don’t know. As long as we stay here, I think we’ll be okay. It’s just a matter of whether or not they can get a cure for this before it’s too late. Bobi, you going to work?” Mick looked at Bobi, who was equally comfortable, knowing the little trooper would soon part their company and venture out to fulfill her part of the health care cycle.
“Yup, feel like I have to. Yesterday we only had about half of the staff show up. I don’t think they’re sick but just too scared to come in.”
“Do you believe they’re making any headway?” Hannah asked.
“If they have, they aren’t sharing it with us. This is a scary bug. Can you imagine if this kills off brain cells the way they’re reporting this morning? There’s generally no recovery from such a viral attack, which means half or more of the population could be walking vegetables in days.” Bobi shuddered at the thought, but pulled herself up and headed for the bathroom and the safety clothing located there.
“I wish she didn’t have to go in,” Hannah said to Mick. Two days before, the entire dental clinic had been shut down when the dentist had called in sick. Hysteria ran like a wildfire through the office as everyone compared when they’d last worked with the doctor. Hannah fortunately was well but it didn’t help her sleep any better.
“Well, I guess it’s just you and me, kid. What should we watch today?” Mick asked, knowing they had already visually consumed about a dozen movies in the past few days.
“I think I’ll pass, at least for now. I’m gonna read and then have a nap. Did you hear from Rave last night? I haven’t heard anything from her since that group text.”
“Nothing more than a quick text last night -- said she was making good progress on the book but was snowed in. Good thing we packed her up the way we did. I had a feeling she’d need all that stuff.”
A few minutes later, Bobi exited the bathroom, attired and looking like she was ready for a moonwalk. Through her mask and headgear she was singing, “If you want my body and you think I’m sexy – Come on, sugar, let me know.” She did a ‘bump and grind’ around the entry way for a minute, as she completed the song; ending with a mock touching of her behind through the plastic protective pants and issuing a loud, “Ssssssss.”
“I guess I’ll see you two later. Hopefully, I’ll get out of there by eight tonight. Hannah, how ‘bout you cook up some of that world famous goulash your mamma taught ya. I could go for something warm.”
Hannah was in the process of uploading a series of pictures she’d just taken to her social network, but promised the meal if Bobi would give her one last, memorable parting shot. The plastic-encased woman complied by pretending to bounce to the doorway in super slow motion, which got Hannah and Mick giggling. Not that the antic was overly funny but it was a welcome relief from the stress they’d been dealing with for the past few days.
The day passed quickly with only one bit of excitement around noon.
Mick and Hannah were pulled to their large-paned window when they heard the sounds of breaking glass across the plaza from their building. Inspecting the scene from their lofty vantage point they could see the bed of a large pickup buried into the front of a small supermarket. Men were running from the cab and into the market when police arrived. A wrestling match ensued with multiple units finally responding to take three men into custody but no shots were fired and no one appeared to be badly hurt. It would be the first of many such episodes to take place across the city as children called out for food and cupboards ran empty.
Bobi arrived home shortly after 8:00 p.m., as she’d predicted. Worn out and almost unable to speak, she took the bowl of warm gruel and plopped down in front of the television, along with her friends. A different news anchor stared back at them, no less tired looking than the one who had addressed them earlier in the day. More data was available than they’d had hours before, but nothing very encouraging.
The disease was certainly intrusive, destroying brain matter faster than anyone thought possible. Reports across Canada were revealing the same discouraging prognosis. Heart rate, breathing, digestion, and immune response all returned to near-normal levels once the majority of cerebral tissue was destroyed. The result was a host of alive but incommunicative patients, who were able to understand their need to eat and sleep, but little else. They were neither dead nor capable of living, or at least living in terms of what life was before the virus. These results were apparent by the end of the day, causing the researchers to conclude that the cycle of the virus was effectively one week from onset to resolution. However, the resolution phase was yet unclear. Was the effect temporary or was the greater part of normal brain function completely wiped out for good? In many instances, only time would tell.
Due to a lack of space and the drop out of health care providers, patients that were clinically ‘healed’, but lacking the needed brain function to really fend for themselves, were sent home with family to watch and care for them. The reporter promised a news alert was impending and would pre-empt anything they were airing to bring a CDC special report as it became available. The roommates left the television on with the volume set to low so they could chat while they waited for the update. Hours passed and they were all but asleep when they finally heard the anchor issue the alert.
One week into the pandemic the CDC issued a news release, clarifying the nature and spread of the infection. At the conclusion of the very long-winded, technical statement the speaker boiled it down to a few pertinent remarks. First – the virus spreads initially like most flu’s; airborne and tactile. However, by the time the patient’s lungs have cleared and the brain is under attack, the infected individual is no longer contagious, in the ‘normal’ sense of the word. Second – once the majority of cerebral neurons are destroyed, the viral load in the blood system drops to a sustainable level and appears to lack potency to damage additional organs. Third – and this was the kicker, the brain-damaged people become carriers of the virus, possibly able to infect a healthy person with the transfer of body fluids; blood, tears, semen and other bodily secretion.
A few side notes of encouragement were downplayed but listed: the visual cortex, although damaged, remained viable for most end-stage patients and small islands of active cerebral tissue were present in almost all of the surviving individuals but size and location varied from one person to the next. Additional testing was underway to determine the scope of the problem and if there was any possible treatment for those in either the primary, secondary or tertiary stages.
At the conclusion of the press release the speaker was inundated with questions and the trio of friends gleaned a few more bits of information that they stored away for their future survival. One such question resulted in the following statement, “Tests are being done to determine in what concentrations the virus would have to pass to a healthy organism to stimulate a viral take over of the immune system but no data is present at this time.” The CDC assured the public, along with the WHO (World Health Organization), that treatments were on the way and a viable solution was close at hand.
“Liars!” Bobi yelled at the television.
“So, I hate to sound stupid, but what exactly does all that mean?” Mick inquired, looking at her two more medically trained roommates.
Hannah responded first, giving Bobi time to cool down. “It sounds to me like once you get the infection it hits your lungs first and if that doesn’t kill you, it eventually finds its way to your brain and kills your cerebral cortex. That’s the part of the brain that makes you who you are. It’s your memory, thoughts, ability to think and all that kind of stuff. Is that what you got from it, Bobi?”
The lab tech switched her seething gaze from the CDC spokeswoman to Mick and Hannah. “Pretty much. That thing about the ‘islands of tissue’ is kind of vague. I guess they think the tertiary cases, or end-stage victims have got some parts of their brain that still work, but it varies from one survivor to the next. I don’t know for sure, but some must be able to hear, or speak, or have some thought process but most, and pardon my pun, are the walking dead. Don’t think I want to go that way. You guys have got to promise me that you’ll drive a butter knife through my head if I turn out like that,” she said in a very serious tone.
“That’s how I understood it,” Hannah agreed. “They also made it sound like the victims are no longer contagious. You know, like if they cough on you, but they’re still carriers.”
“Carriers?” Mick questioned. “How does that impact us?”
“I think it means they can transfer the infection but only if you ingest their spit or get their blood into your system in some way,” Bobi further explained.
“That’s pretty scary, don’t you think?” Mick exclaimed.
“Well, yeah! What if they were to bite you just like in the movies? Don’t think I want to be a dental assistant any longer,” Hannah concurred.
“So let me see if I’m on the same page as you two. These people that have had the infection are no longer contagious unless they somehow get their body fluids into my blood stream?” The other two roommates nodded. “Okay, but these same people have no thought process or at least very little. So their bodies are fairly normal and they can see but they only really understand the basics, like the need to eat and sleep. Is that the bottom line?”
“From what they’re saying, I think you’ve got it right,” Bobi said.
Mick, Hannah and Bobi sat in stunned silence as they watched the spokeswoman for the CDC conclude her remarks. For the past few days, the roommates had watched the city they loved decay into chaos. Without having to speak, the women understood and felt the risk of infection closing in around them. Luck and diligence had kept them safe thus far, but for how much longer?
By the time the announcement was over, Hannah looked at her friends and said, “Let’s go!”
“What do you mean, let’s go?” Mick asked, wanting to confirm Hannah was thinking the same thing she’d been contemplating.
“Rave, we could drive out and spend the next few weeks with Raven until this blows over and Health Canada has a treatment plan.”
“I can’t just walk away, can I?” Bobi asked, hoping her friends would convince her it was the right thing to do. The lab was stretched thin and she knew they were counting on her. As dedicated as she was, even Bobi had been feeling the pressure to fend for herself and the ones she loved. It didn’t take much convincing for her to see the light. “What about our families? Should we try to make a run to Edmonton?”
“Situation there is the same as here. My folks are somewhat secluded on the ranch so they told me to just look out for myself. Hannah, you heard from yours?” Mick asked.
“Not a word. I expect I’m on my own, as usual.”
“What do you mean? You’ve got us, so you’re far from being on your own, right Mom?” Bobi assured her taller friend.
“That’s right, we’ll look out for you, Hannah. What’s the deal with your family?
” Mick asked, directing her question to Bobi.
“Yesterday they shut down the store and were just hunkered down at home. There’s a good community of Coptic Christians there. I’m sure they’ll look out for them. I guess I’ll just let them know where we’re headed and try to keep in touch. I sure wish there was some way to bring them to the cabin. Do you think Raven would mind if I sent them the map?”
“We better ask before we start giving that out but I’m sure your parents know how to take care of themselves. They survived you didn’t they?” Hannah asked, wrapping her arm around the lab tech and pulling her close.
“Yes, but this is somewhat different. I’ll call and fill them in before we go.”
“Sounds good,” Mick responded.
They discussed their plan for a few minutes before unanimously deciding there was really no other choice. If Raven would have them, they’d be packed and ready to go in no time. Bobi dialed her friend’s cell but was unable to get through. She left a detailed voice message with instructions for Raven to call any of their cells, but they would be to the cabin by morning, or at least that was the plan. Less than an hour later and under the darkness of night, they loaded Mick’s Jeep and were on their way. The trio cautiously navigated the deserted streets that led west, away from Calgary to the mountains of the Canadian Rockies.
With map in hand and a prayer in their hearts they anxiously anticipated a small cabin, devoid of illness, where they could ride out the pandemic. Hopes ran high that the hurried trip would spell their salvation and that ultimately they would be reunited with their families and loved ones.
Chapter 5
Shadows danced among the orange and yellow hues that illuminated the inner walls of the small cabin. Raven sat on the couch eating a cup of yogurt she’d pulled from a snow bank, just outside the back door, only moments before. For now the snow cover was acting as her refrigerator and the fire as her lighting system. A pair of candles were flickering on either side of her laptop, which was now drained of power and sitting on the tabletop. A second day without electricity had brought her story to an abrupt halt. Some progress had been made the day before, but writing by hand was difficult and her wrist ached from the hours she’d spent completing the most recent chapter.
Operation Z-Day (The Raven Falconer Chronicles) Page 4
