RECTIFY TWO
A novella
Jacqueline Druga
Rectify 2 - By Jacqueline Druga
Copyright 2018 by Jacqueline Druga
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any person or persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Thank you to Paula Gibson, with all that you had going on in your life, I can’t believe you helped me with this.
ONE – STALLING
Her eyes had not closed at the moment of death. Even in the brightly lit trauma treatment room, her pupils were so dilated, it gave her eyes the appearance of being black.
Doctor James Ung knew what he had to do.
It had been thirty seconds since her heart stopped beating steadily.
He grabbed the instrument called the rectifier, an object that looked much like the old time ice tongs. He placed the pointed edges of the tong end to both temples, took a deep breath, then after a mental count of three, fast and hard he squeezed the handle. The sharp ends pierced the skull, entered the brain matter and stopped the woman from reviving.
There was no blood. There never was.
He removed the instrument and placed it on the tray.
He then closed her eyes, something he should have done prior, he thought to himself.
James just knew he was running out of time.
Many in his position, those who had to perform the act of rectifying, they felt guilty.
Not James.
There were many times in the course of his day as an emergency room doctor that he felt guilty. Snapping at a nurse, being cold and callous to family members all because he was overwhelmed.
Rectifying was a part of the new way of life. It had to be done in order to contain the pandemic. It had become another standard procedure.
The CO-D4 virus still raged, it was out there. A cognitive dysfunction virus, it not only ravaged the body with fever and pain, it caused severe mental impairment up until the moment of death and continued even after when they revived.
When the virus first surfaced it moved rapidly. It took the world by storm and their way of life crumbled.
James believed it was the end. The great apocalypse depicted by movies, books and prophets.
He didn’t leave his house. He hoarded food and water, all the while blocking out the sounds masses of infected made after revival.
More than the virus, the reviving was the pandemic. Everyone was aware of the danger victims of CO-D4, or Codies as they were called, were to others upon awakening.
Because no one wanted to kill a brother, sister, mother or father, the number of Codies grew. They’d infect others.
Until someone said, ‘enough is enough’ James didn’t know who that person was or group of people. All he knew was one day, after a long stint of barricading himself in his house, things changed.
Military vehicles arrived, mass shootings of the Codies entailed, the power was restored and rules were set in place.
Everyone was to resume their normal jobs.
No one was to be on the street after sundown.
Absolutely, under no circumstance was anyone allowed to care for the infected in their homes. They had to be brought to a controlled environment.
Controlling the infected before they revived was the only way to minimize the presence of large masses after they revived.
There were even specialty teams called R-Teams. Groups of specially trained and highly decorated soldiers who went into places to clear them of the revived.
It was all part of the plan and the best way to keep the human race one step ahead.
Like the saying, people were one pay check away from homelessness, the world was one missed Codie away from extinction.
Those thoughts helped in keeping James from feeling guilty each time he snapped the jaws of the rectifier close.
Guilt was a horrible thing and not a luxury James could afford.
Although guilt truly was the one sure thing that reminded Doctor James Ung that he was still human. The ability to feel, to be sad, happy ... were all part of human emotions. It was hard to carry, he knew that from experience, it was why he prided himself on being as honest and transparent as he could.
He hated the feeling of guilt.
Not even the act of rectifying made him feel guilty, and he had rectified at least two hundred infected.
That was because he justified the act.
Those he rectified were not only infected, they were technically dead.
Technically.
The heart though still beating, beat so slow it was undetectable, but it did beat.
That was the basis for his friend and colleague’s belief that somehow, someway the person they were was still inside. Trapped in a body they could no longer control.
June Mannis was a doctor as well. She had merit in what she believed. When other Codies opened their eyes and exhibited rage, June was able to have them revive calmly.
She had methods.
There was a saying in the medical community, ‘How you go out is how you come back'.
June made sure they came back peacefully. They didn’t full scale attack like others had. She likened the ragers to someone unable to control their mental faculties.
She had several subjects she was studying. But then, medical personnel or not, it became against the law to harbor infected and her test field was wiped out by a R-Team.
Sometimes James saw it, and sometimes he didn’t. But June was passionate about it, she fully believed it, therefore to her, rectifying was a crime against humanity.
They were alive, if there was a cure, they could be helped … that was what she thought.
That fervent obsession was what caused James Ung to worry about her.
Her husband, a television camera man, was on assignment with a R-Team. He was bit and revived. June had to call in the R-Team. Unknown to June, he had scratched their youngest daughter.
For the first week, June came to work. Every day. James thought she needed time, she had lost two members of her family.
Then again, he hadn’t heard if she had called the R-Team on her youngest daughter. In fact he heard nothing. Each day June looked worse. She was pale and limping.
Then she didn’t come in. James thought at first she was finally getting rest, until June’s mother called.
“She’s sick,” Linda said.
“Was she bit?” James asked.
“No, mentally sick. The baby … Melinda ... she died then revived over a week ago. She won’t put her to rest. She promised me and Henny she would, but she hasn’t yet.”
“Oh my God.”
“I need your help. Please, I’m worried about my daughter. Don’t tell her I told you.”
“I won’t, and I’ll head over there now.”
James did what he told Linda he would do. He went to June’s house. He had to pound on the door until she answered. June looked and tried to pass off normalcy, blocking him from entering, but he pushed his way through. The stench of a rotting body filled the house and he knew June’s mother was right.
Knowing that June’s revived daughter was in the house was bad enough, until he noticed the blood-stained, scrub pants she wore.
The revelation that June was feeding her child from her own flesh hit James.
This was how she was keeping her calm … feeding her. Like a mother with an infant, but instead of a breast, June was giving chunks of her thigh and mid-section.
James told her he understood, even offered to take care of it for her. June refused.
“You promised Henny and your mother you would take care of this. Promise me you’ll f
ollow through.” He told her
June lowered her head.
“Promise me, June, promise you’ll take care of this.”
“I promise.”
Apprehensively he left, telling June he would return in a few hours.
He did.
He knocked on every door, peeked in every window. He saw nothing and heard nothing.
James with no other choice, and hating to do so, did the only think he could think of to do.
He called the R-Team.
TWO – THE CALL
One cold beer, that was all Major Tom Leland wanted. He was like a newborn, whose nights and days were mixed up. Leading the one and only R-Team in the southeastern Pennsylvania region wasn’t a nine to five job. It was alternating shifts. Eight hours on, three hours off. Then every third shift, he’d get enough time to sleep. On this day it was the afternoon. The sun was shining, rolling blackouts didn’t allow for the air conditioning to stay on long enough to make things really cold, or for the white noise to put him to sleep.
So, Tom wanted one beer.
He sat in the common room of the R-Team barracks, feet kicked up on the coffee table as he sunk into a relaxing vegetative state, trying to get tired enough to fall asleep despite the heat and the daylight.
The news wasn’t helping.
It was all talk about a cure.
Cure this. Cure that.
Tom thought it was ridiculous. They were far from out of the woods fighting the infected. In fact, he wished the news would focus on teaching people to be vigilant, to stop trying to care for infected family members.
Tom knew all too well how that ended. It always ended the same way.
There was never a single family member that got well. If they didn’t take the C0-D4 victim to a medical facility, if they tried to keep them at home, when they revived they infected others.
Tom got it, he understood. It was hard not to see that person as mom or dad, Aunt Mary or Uncle Joe. But they had to.
All the talk about a cure vaccine or immunization was going to fan the flame of people caring for their loved ones. If something to help them was out there, why would they take them to a medical facility where they would be, basically exterminated.
Tom was certain people weren’t paying close enough attention to the news. The so called cure wasn’t a hundred percent fix, and it hadn’t even been given at any clinical testing yet. However, it went so quickly from ‘Maybe we have a cure’ to ‘We’re gonna have this on the streets and to facilities as soon as possible'.
With news of a potential cure, people, soldiers, everyone would get lax, what would happen if the cure didn’t work?
Tom just wanted to watch reruns instead of the news, but that was all that played.
“Major Tom?” a soldier called to him.
Tim brought his beer to his lips and lifted his eyes. “What’s up?”
“There’s a doctor on the phone from Mon Valley. I tried to tell them you were on your sleeping break, but they said it’s important.” He showed Tom the phone.
Tom nodded then took it. He figured it had to be June Mannis. He had spoken to her quite a bit at the hospital. “Hello, this is Major Tom Leland.”
“Major Tom, this is Doctor James Ung. I need your help.”
Upon hearing the rush sound to his voice, Tom sat up. "Dr. Ung, what can I do for you?”
“I know you’re resting. But it’s June. Her daughter had been infected. She kept her at home. She allowed the child to revive.”
Tom closed his eyes and rubbed them. “When?”
“Her mother called me. It’s been going on for at least a week.”
“Jesus.”
“I went over to talk to June this morning. She looked bad. She wasn’t bit or sick, but it’s obvious this was taking its toll. She promised me she’d take care of it.”
“You’re calling because you don’t think she did?”
“No,” Dr. Ung replied. “I told her I would be back. I just left the house. I couldn’t get in. No one was answering. I think … I think things went bad. When are you back on duty?”
“In six hours but … I’ll go handle it now.”
“Are you sure?” Ung asked.
“Yes, I will personally handle this.”
“I appreciate it.”
“How many are in the house?” Tom asked.
“Just June and her four-year-old daughter. According to her mother, the daughter is in an upstairs bedroom.”
“So just the two of them, and one of them is contained?”
“Yes.”
“I’m on my way.”
“I’ll meet you there,” Ung said.
“Doctor, it’s dangerous for you to go,” Tom said.
“I’ll not be in the way. I have to be there. June is my friend. I need to be there.”
“Then I’ll see you there.” Tom hurriedly finished his one beer and headed towards the door. He announced on his way out, “I’m headed to a house with a possible hoarding and revival. Just two people.”
“Major, you need me to grab the team?” a soldier asked.
“No. No,” Tom shook his head. “I know these folks, I’m gonna go do this one alone. I’ll call for clean up to meet me there. Get some rest. I’ll be back.”
After leaving the barracks, Tom stopped by the weapons depot, retrieved what he needed and left. He knew he wasn’t supposed to go alone, but he wasn’t worried. He was good at what he did, not only that, he felt out of respect for June, he needed to do it alone.
On his way to June’s house, Tom notified the cleanup crew. He told them to expect one body, possibly two. But in Tom’s mind, June was fine. She wasn’t answering the door because she didn’t want to face Doctor Ung.
There was no way anything could have happened to her. She was too smart.
It was the second time he had been to the house. The first being when he had to rectify June’s husband, Stan.
Tom knew Stan. He was the camera man assigned to his unit. Stan was bit under Tom’s watch and never said a word.
He pulled up to the house and Doctor Ung was already there, parked in his car across the street. He stepped out of his vehicle as soon as he saw Tom.
Tom walked toward him. “Stay here. I’m going in.”
“How long until I know?”
“Hard to say. Did you try all the doors?”
“Yes, they’re all locked.”
Tom nodded and walked back to his car. He reached inside and pulled out a crow bar. He checked his weapon and then headed to the front door.
As always, neighbors started to gather.
Usually, Ton would plot out his entrance while playing music in his head.
Not this time.
He knocked on the door, then knocked again, calling out, “Major Tom Leland, R-Team, Doctor Mannis, open up.”
He waited.
“Doctor Mannis, please open up or I’m coming in.”
He gave it a few seconds, then jammed the crowbar into the seam, cracked it outward while shoving his shoulder.
The lock broke, but he didn’t immediately storm in.
Tom was smarter than that.
He wasn’t going in with gas, so he had to take his time.
Quietly and slowly he opened the front door. Immediately the horrid smell he was all too familiar with hit him.
Death.
Decomposition.
A single step into the house, he readied his weapon and prepared.
There was a sad sound that made him lift his head to the ceiling. The pitter patter of little feet.
Tom knew the youngest daughter had died and revived as he made his way up the stairs.
They creaked, alerting his presence and the footsteps ran to him.
Just as he hit the top of the stairs, the little girl appeared. From Tom’s experience she had revived over a week before.
Her face was almost green, with slashed from where her skin had split. He held aim on her, then reached to his belt. He grabbed t
he tube-shaped object and using his thump, pulled the retracting switch back.
He didn’t want to shoot her, not if he didn’t have to.
‘Hold still sweetie, don’t bite’, he thought and brought the mini rectifier toward her. “Rectify,” he said softly. All he had to do was place it to her temple and press the button. A small spear like object would eject into her. But the child leapt for him, Tom had no choice but to fire.
Even though it was his job, he never got used to rectifying a child.
It made him pause, hate the world and at times hate himself.
He stood on the staircase holding the railing when he heard a ‘thumping sound’. Getting it together, Tom followed the sound.
It continued, the sound led him to a closed door.
As soon as he reached for it, the door knob shook. It didn’t turn, it just shook. It was the scraping against the door that told him, whatever … whoever was on the other side had revived.
He took a deep breath and opened the door.
It was the sole reason why Tom never spoke to anyone before, he didn’t want to know them in case they revived.
June had revived.
At some point she had died.
When he met her, she was this vibrant woman with spunk. Shorter hair that she attempted to pull back, but strands were always hanging. He found her beautiful and even more so because she had faith and hope in humanity.
She believed that those who revived were somehow still alive within the shell of their bodies.
She tried to prove it to him, but Tom didn’t see it.
June had turned recently, he knew that by the look of her. She would of looked almost alive had it not been for her grey pupils and blood shoot eyes.
She stared at him.
Maybe, Tom thought, maybe this was the chance June had, the final chance to prove it to him. Prove she was in there.
"Come on June,” he beckoned in his mind. "Do something." he locked eyes with her. "Do something to show me you are still you. Please." he begged silently.
To Tom, she didn’t.
He waited.
He gave her a chance.
But she opened her mouth wide moving toward him.
He raised his pistol and sadly whispered, “Rectify.”
Rectify [Book 2] Page 1
