The Jakarta Pandemic

by Steven Konkoly

  Jesus. If this virus is deadlier than the avian flu, we’re in trouble.

  By noon on any given day, over a hundred flights departed HKIA for every major city in world, and by midnight that same day, flights originating from HKIA landed in major hubs on every continent. From there, these passengers embarked on journeys to every conceivable corner of the planet. Within sixteen to eighteen hours of leaving Hong Kong, an infected passenger could be sharing a pint of Guinness with friends in a Dublin Pub, sipping tea with family in the suburbs of Damascus, or meeting a friend for Italian food in Boston’s North End.

  And this thing has been brewing in China for more than three days. This thing is everywhere.

  He minimized the web browser and got up to call the kids to dinner.

  **

  The Fletchers ate dinner sitting at a large rectangular pine table located between the kitchen and family room. The eating area was separated from the family room by two half walls, with a wide opening centered between them, anchored by sculpted wood columns extending from the top of the half walls to the ceiling. Alex served butternut squash soup to everyone, and Kate started the evening interrogation.

  “So, anything huge going on in class for anyone? Emily?” Kate said.

  Emily replied, “Not much, we’re still learning some Spanish. I have homework again.”

  “Yeah, you’re going to have a lot more than the one spelling test you had last year. Try homework like every night, and more tests. I have like two hours a night now,” Ryan complained.

  “Well, I think we’re going to have about the same as you. I heard from Lauren that her friend in Mr. Leahy’s class already has over an hour of work to do every night,” Emily said.

  “I doubt it. I never had that much work in third grade. Third grade is like kindergarten compared to middle school.”

  “Okay, crazies, Ryan wins the award for most oppressed by homework. Anything other than that going on this week?” Alex said.

  Both children shook their heads slowly.

  “Really, there’s not much,” Ryan said.

  “Of course not,” Alex said.

  “I think I might join cross-country like Ryan. Lauren is running in it,” Emily informed them.

  “You already have soccer practice three times a week,” Kate reminded her.

  Kate looked at Ryan and asked, “Don’t they run their meets on Thursday?”

  “Yeah, but the meets are optional, and they’re done by four thirty. They only run like a mile or maybe less. She could probably do it.”

  Emily’s face brightened.

  “If she wasn’t so slow,” Ryan added, emitting a terribly annoying laugh, and Emily reached over the table to hit him.

  Kate grabbed her arm, and pointed her finger at Ryan. “That’s enough! Both of you. No hitting, and you, cut it out.”

  Alex shook his head, half smiling, and then turned to Ryan. “Really, quit agitating your sister. It’s starting to become a very annoying habit.” He turned back to Emily. “Anyway, sweetie, I don’t think you should double up on practices in the same day. Soccer comes first, and you make as many running practices as you can. Sound good?”

  He turned his head back to Ryan and raised his eyebrows, sending a clear warning to his son.

  “As long as she makes a couple practices, they don’t care. It’s a really laid-back program,” Ryan answered.

  “Thank you, Ryan. There you go, sweetie. Go ahead and sign up. We’ll get you some running shoes,” Kate said.

  “Thanks, Mom.”

  Alex realized that he was the only one at the table eating and talking. “All right, let’s get some food down, or you won’t have enough energy to walk to the school bus, let alone run any races.”

  Both kids started eating their soup, and Alex could tell by their initial response that they liked it.

  “Honey, the soup is awesome.”

  “Thanks. Whole Foods was stocked with different squashes, so I picked up a bunch,” she said.

  Alex nodded his head and finished his soup. Kate was only halfway through her bowl when he got up, walked to the kitchen island, and grabbed their dinner plates. He put them in an open space on the table and sat down to wait for everyone to finish their soup. He nodded at Kate, and she started in on their planned conversation.

  “Ryan, did you guys talk about the situation in China at school?”

  “A little bit.”

  “What did you talk about?”

  “Well, Mr. Brett asked us if we had seen it in the news or on the internet this morning. I heard some of it when you guys had the kitchen TV on, and I saw an article on CNFkids.com at school.”

  “Cool. What did you think?”

  Alex started to load Emily’s plate with rice, stir-fry and tofu. She protested the amount with her hands, trying to wave off the second heap as he hovered the wooden spoon over her plate, and he acknowledged her silent refusal by moving the spoonful to his own plate.

  “I don’t know. Everyone seems pretty mad at China. Aren’t they doing the same thing they did in 2008? Keeping everyone in the dark?”

  Kate answered, “Well, nobody really knows what’s going on over there. At least this time, the world knows something is brewing. What did Mr. Brett say?”

  “Not much. He really just wanted to get some discussion going. We spent some time talking about the 2008 pandemic and looking at some facts about China.”

  “Nice,” Alex said. “Did any of your teachers talk to you guys about pandemic flu in general, or anything like that?”

  Kate finished her soup while they talked. Emily was busy emptying her plate, clearly happy not to be the focus of attention.

  “Yep, we talked about it in science. How the flu spreads, how scientists classify strains of flu, past pandemics. It was pretty cool. Pretty scary, too. Dad, do you think we could have another pandemic? Ms. Ullman said that major pandemics usually don’t happen so close together, and that’s why the swine flu pandemic never really took off.”

  “Sounds like you guys really learn some advanced shiiii…stuff in that class. Sorry.”

  Emily laughed. “Daddy, you’re starting to talk like Mommy.”

  “Thanks a lot, Emily,” Kate said ruefully.

  “Another impartial witness to Barnacle Bill’s mouth,” Alex said.

  Kate clearly wanted to give him the middle finger as she tapped her index finger on the top of her water glass.

  “Anyway, historically speaking, your teacher would be right. However, there are a lot of experts out there that think it can happen at any time if the conditions are right. So to answer your question, I don’t think anyone can really predict these things,” Alex said.

  He looked at Kate and rubbed his chin. Kate picked up on his cue.

  “You guys really don’t have to worry about it. You know that, right? We’ve made some preparations at the house over the past few years that will get us through any major crisis. Pandemic, major storm, whatever it might be.”

  Both kids nodded their heads. They appeared to have anticipated this talk.

  “You mean all of that stuff locked up in the basement?” Emily asked.

  “Yeah, that’s part of it. We have plenty of food, water and supplies stored down there. We also have our own power supply: the sun. And we can keep the house warm with the wood-burning stove,” Kate answered.

  “Can’t we heat the house with the furnace if we have solar power?” Ryan asked.

  Alex laughed. “This kid’s too smart. Yes, we could, but the furnace eats up a lot of power. During the summer, when the sun is strongest, we could get away with it. But who needs to use the furnace in the summer, right? Other than to heat up water, that is. Winter is a different story because the sun is so much weaker. Even on a beautiful day, the batteries will charge more slowly than a crappy day in the summer. We’d really have to watch the charge level.”

  Kate brought the conversation back on track. “What I want you two to understand is that we are prepared for anythi
ng really scary like that, and that you don’t have to worry about it. Other people need to be worried because most other people won’t be prepared at all. They may actually not even believe it’s happening until it’s too late for them.”

  “How will we know if it is happening?” Emily asked.

  In a calm tone, Alex said, “Your mom and I know what to look for. Trust us, we’ll know. The hard part will be convincing others to listen and prepare.”

  “Right, and if something like this happens, we need to be ready to stay in our house for a very long time, without coming into contact with anyone, even friends and family. Unless they prepared like us,” Kate said.

  “Like last year? That really sucked. Please don’t take us out of school for no reason again,” Ryan said.

  “We didn’t take you out for no reason. Swine flu had the potential to be worse than the avian flu, and the avian flu killed close to fifty thousand people in the U.S. in 2008. We weren’t ready for it at all, and it really scared the, ah…you-know-what out of us. Fill in the blank, honey?” Alex said.

  “Ha ha,” Kate said through a fake smile.

  “But nothing happened, and it was embarrassing. Plus, it took me forever to catch up! Remember some of the teachers didn’t want to let me make up some of my tests?”

  “That won’t happen again,” Kate assured him.

  “What does a pandemic do to you?” Emily asked.

  “Sweetie, the pandemic flu makes you really, really sick. Worse than you’ve ever been before. That’s why you get a flu shot every year.”

  “To keep from getting the pandemic flu?”

  “No, you get the shot for the regular flu, which can make you pretty sick, too. The pandemic flu is worse though,” Kate said.

  “Don’t worry about it, sweetie. No one in this family will get sick, I promise. Just finish your dinner and start your homework. Then we can have some dessert,” Alex said.

  Emily dug into her stir-fry as Ryan finished his plate. Alex saw that Emily still looked worried.

  “More stir-fry, sweetie?”

  “No, thanks, Mom, I had more than enough. Everything’s great, especially the soup,” Ryan replied.

  Chapter Seven

  Friday, November 1, 2013

  Kate and Alex sat together on a dark brown leather sectional couch in the great room. Two recessed lights over the mantel cast indirect light over the entire family room. The flat-screen TV showed FBC news anchor Kerrie Connor framed next to Dr. David Ocampo, Director of the ISPAC’s Live Trend Analysis Division. Information displayed at the bottom of the split screen indicated that Dr. Ocampo was broadcasting live from ISPAC headquarters in Atlanta, Georgia.

  “Dr. Ocampo, thank you again for your time. Good luck to both you and your organization.”

  “Thank you for the opportunity to educate the public, and if I may, your viewers can always obtain the most updated pandemic information on our website, www.ispac.org.”

  “Thank you again, Dr. Ocampo. When we come back, we’ll hear about the massive preparations underway on the Florida peninsula in preparation for the anticipated landfall of Hurricane Terrence.”

  Kate paused the recording and looked at Alex, slowly nodding her head.

  “Rewind to the part about the WHO underestimating the flu’s potential,” he said.

  Kate scrolled back a few times to find the right segment.

  “That’s it. Right there,” Alex said.

  “Dr. Ocampo, WHO representatives have repeatedly criticized this premise, labeling your organization’s research in this area of study as flawed. They say that your casualty projections are excessive and that your assessment of the impact on essential services is exaggerated. Dr. Pierre Neville, head of the WHO’s pandemic impact study group, is quoted saying that the ‘ISPAC’s predictions are alarmist science fiction.’ How do you respond to the WHO’s stance toward the ISPAC’s projections?”

  “The problem with their criticism of our projections is that the WHO leans way too heavily on the experiences of the 2008 pandemic. They insist that 2008 is the perfect model for all future pandemics. On the contrary, we believe that the 2008 pandemic flu strain was a relatively weak pandemic strain, especially compared to the 1918 Spanish flu, which killed millions. In 2008, the world’s healthcare system and essential services infrastructure was barely challenged.”

  “How so?” Kerrie pressed.

  “During the avian flu pandemic, hospital-based care remained available to a majority of sick patients, at least in most modernized and developing countries. This drastically improved outcomes and contributed decisively to the low overall case fatality rate. Although the situation in many developing nations approached—and in some cases crossed—the tipping point, most modernized nations’ systems were never truly challenged by the 2008 pandemic. This outcome would be different in the face of a deadlier and more infectious virus. The tipping point for inpatient healthcare availability, in both modernized and developing nations, would be reached quickly, and the result would be catastrophic.”

  “Even for the United States?”

  “Everywhere. In any given area, we calculate that all available inpatient services such as hospital beds, ventilators, and medical staff would be occupied within two to three weeks of a pandemic reaching that area. In the U.S. alone, based on 1918 pandemic flu patterns, every existing hospital bed would be occupied within a few weeks. Once inpatient capacity is filled, patients would be given a set of home-based care instructions and turned away.”

  “Turned away? Where would they be sent?”

  “Home.”

  “Really? That doesn’t sound like a great option.”

  “It isn’t. The predicted survival rates for hospital-based care versus home-based care differ greatly. 80 to 85% versus 10 to 15% for a medium-risk patient. If you’re a high-risk patient with secondary complications like heart disease or diabetes, you’re as good as dead.”

  Kerrie looked stunned by his last statement.

  “Kerrie, this isn’t science fiction. It’s a common-sense-based statistical prediction. A complicated one that accounts for hundreds of factors and balances trends from several pandemic models. Not just one, like the WHO model.”

  Kate stopped the recording. “That’s sure to cause a stir within the WHO.”

  “At the White House, too. They’re all in each other’s pockets. He basically put it all on the table. Tomorrow should be interesting,” Alex replied.

  “How can anyone really ignore or dismiss what he said? You have to stop and at least think about it.”

  “Don’t worry. First of all, nobody wants to believe it could be a real problem. Most of these people don’t give a shit about any potential crisis.” He raised his hands, gesturing toward the neighborhood. “If it’s not happening to them right now,” he continued, “they don’t care. Oil prices are lower than a few months ago? Great. Forget about the fact that the price threshold rises every year. Why do anything? Got a little scared during the 2008 pandemic? Sure, but what’s the chance that it will happen again so soon? Not likely, according to the government. And last year’s swine flu pandemic turned out to be a joke, so why should anyone worry? The local news hasn’t even picked up on the possible cases right here in Maine. Who knows what it’ll take for people to take it seriously? Which reminds me, I should check out our stockpile. I haven’t been down there in a long time, and it couldn’t hurt to see what we have on hand. I packed the pantry and hall closet with stuff from Hannigan’s earlier today.”

  “I saw that. I wish I had done the same thing.”

  “We really don’t need anything. I just couldn’t drive right by Hannigan’s and not stop. I picked up a bunch of wine and beer, too. I’m not taking any chances.”

  “Smart man. So…you go measure the Frito supply while I check on the kids and clean up.”

  “I’ll be up in a few minutes.”

  Kate got up from the couch and walked behind it toward the doorway leading from the front of the
family room to the staircase in the foyer. Alex placed the empty glass on the coffee table and held his hand over his head for Kate’s hand. She grasped his hand over the back of the couch and kissed it.

  “Love you.”

  “Love you, too. I’ll be in the bunker if you need me.”

  He picked up his glass and walked into the kitchen, glancing at the clock on the DVR. 8:12. He placed the glass on the kitchen island and grabbed a yellow legal pad and a pen from the kitchen desk, turned toward the basement door, and headed towards the dark stairwell. He turned on the lights to the basement and descended the unfinished stairs.

  Facing him on the way down, a storage shelf stood against the concrete wall directly across from the stairway. The shelf contained larger kitchen items that didn’t fit in the kitchen or pantry. Alex scanned the shelf and saw a cobalt blue Mixmaster, an espresso maker, a blender, dozens of large wooden or stainless steel bowls, and several large plastic serving trays.

  He reached the basement floor and turned the corner into a large, well-lit, unfinished area that encompassed two-thirds of the total available basement space. The area was filled with lawn furniture, several bicycles, two kayaks, a dehumidifier, an old sofa, assorted luggage, and a working refrigerator. The front wall of the basement, adjacent to the stairway, was occupied by stacks of fifty-gallon plastic storage bins that held everything from summer clothing to painting supplies. Everything without a place in the upper floors of the house ended up stored in one of the bins.

  Alex walked along the staircase wall toward another door located toward the back of the basement, just past the spare refrigerator. As he walked to the door, he glanced to his right at the seasonal storage area, which gave him a general feeling of disarray. Every year, he intended to better organize this area, but each time the weather turned colder, he found himself hauling everything through the bulkhead door at the last minute and jamming it in, wherever it would fit.