Infected- The Beginning

by Perry Stevenson

  “Well, Barbara still seems to be OK,” Mary announced. “Kevin has bandaged her arm, put some antiseptic on it and given her some antibiotic tablets. She has fallen asleep, and Linda and Kate are keeping watch.”

  Josephine put her head round the door.

  “Does anybody want a cup of tea?” she asked.

  “What a brilliant idea! We’ll be along shortly,” I replied.

  “Don’t be long – it’s nearly ready. Maria and I started it ten minutes ago,” said Josephine. “Has anybody seen my husband?”

  “Yes, out the back, hopefully cooking our food with Scott,” I replied.

  “I’d better check he’s not burning anything,” quipped Josephine as she left the room.

  “That’s it, James,” said Miles, tightening the last of the scope screws on the .308. “Just got to test them out now.”

  “Time for a drink, guys,” said Mat, leading the way to the banqueting room with the rest of us in tow.

  To my surprise, trays of cups of tea were laid out on the table. We chose a seat each and began to drink in silence as we waited for news on Barbara’s progress.

  Tom and Mat had decided to remove the infected bodies from the vegetable field to our funeral pyre. The rest joined John and Scott at the back of the farmhouse to see how the barbecued food was progressing. I decided to join Mary and Linda in the surgery to find out the latest on my granddaughter’s condition.

  I entered the surgery to find Mary and Linda sitting in chairs they had taken from the banqueting room, and Brian standing at the bottom of the bed. Barbara was sound asleep, and I noticed that Kevin or Kate had tied a piece of rope to her wrist and attached it to the bedpost for safety, just in case the disease took hold.

  “Is she still OK?” I asked.

  “Seems to be, but she’s been asleep for at least an hour now,” replied Mary.

  “If she’s not showing any signs of the disease by now, she might just be alright,” I said.

  Kevin entered the room with a stethoscope around his neck and blood pressure equipment in his hand.

  “Time for a check on Barbara’s condition, Linda,” he said.

  He proceeded to check the little girl’s pulse and attached the blood pressure band around her arm, and then used the stethoscope to listen to her heart and chest. After a few “hmms” and “errs”, he finally spoke to us.

  “Amazing as it may seem, everything is normal for a child of her age. Barbara may just be OK,” said Kevin encouragingly.

  “Do you mean she doesn’t have the disease?” asked Brian.

  I moved over to Kevin’s side as he lifted each of Barbara’s eyelids in turn. Her eyes where still white.

  “It looks that way, but we’ll see how she is in the morning. It seems that either we have found a cure or Barbara is immune,” said Kevin.

  Linda and Brian began to smile, Mary let out a short laugh, and I started to grin from ear to ear.

  “Mary, it’s time we sampled our son’s cooking,” I said. “Linda, Brian, we’ll bring you something to eat and drink. So far so good!”

  “Good idea – I’m starting to feel really hungry and thirsty now. In fact, I’ll have a can of beer,” said Brian.

  Mary and I left the room, both of us feeling happier than we had done in a long time.

  It was quite pleasant in the warm evening sunlight as we approached the glowing embers of the barbecue.

  “How is Barbara?” asked Ruth, the rest of the group taking a keen interest as they waited for our reply.

  “There is no sign of the disease at the moment, and she’s still fast asleep,” Mary reported.

  “Barbara might sleep until morning due to the antibiotic tablets I have given her,” added Kevin, who had joined us.

  “Anyway, Linda and Brian would like something to eat and drink, so what’s on the menu, John?” I asked.

  “Brian wants a beer,” added Mary.

  John and Scott were standing over the barbecue, John wearing a full-length apron he had managed to scrounge from the kitchen. Sheba was sitting bolt upright at his side, hoping to acquire any titbits. Josephine buttered two slices of bread and added them to the plates on each of which John had placed a piece of pigeon and rabbit. Tom poured a beer and a glass of orange juice.

  “I’ll take the food to them,” said Mary, taking hold of both plates.

  “And I’ll bring the drinks,” Ruth added.

  “I’ll come too,” said Josephine.

  All three women then went through the rear door and disappeared from view.

  “Why does it need three of them to take their food?” asked John.

  “Because they are female – that makes them exceptionally nosey,” I replied.

  With Jeffrey’s help, Miles had managed to set out a few garden chairs and tables, and I collected something to eat and a can of lager and sat with him and Maria, soon to be joined by Tom and Ken.

  “The meat tastes better than I expected,” said Miles, stopping abruptly to spit out a small round pellet. “Perhaps you could shoot them with a rifle next time!”

  “Yeah, well, we learn by our mistakes, but the rabbit should be OK,” I replied, grinning at Miles’s discomfort.

  We continued to make small talk for the next few hours, by which time the sun had started to set. Dark shadows began to appear across the open countryside, and a chill wind had started to blow in from the north-east, causing the temperature to drop rapidly. The evening air smelt fresher as the light began to fade. Mary, who had returned earlier from the “surgery” with Ruth and Josephine, started to clear the empty plates and glasses, which seemed to be the signal for everyone else to collect their own dirty dishes and take them through to the kitchen. Miles, Mat and I helped John and Scott to store the tables, chairs and barbecue away. Sheba was busy cleaning up the small patio area we had been using, to her delight having much more to do where the younger children had been sitting.

  We agreed to regroup in the banqueting room, but I decided to look in on Brian and Linda first to check if there was any change in Barbara’s condition.

  I poked my head around the surgery door to find Brian dozing in an armchair, the alcohol having now taken effect. Linda was standing beside the bed, feeling Barbara’s head for any signs of an increase in temperature.

  “Any change, Linda?” I whispered.

  “None at all – she doesn’t even seem to have a high temperature,” she replied quietly.

  Kate entered the room to check Barbara’s pulse and blood pressure and listen to her chest.

  “Linda, her vital signs and breathing are all normal,” said Kate quietly. “The trouble is that we don’t know enough about the disease to be absolutely sure everything is OK. But the good news is that, from my experience, it only takes about an hour, or even less, to infect the body. It’s been four or five hours since Barbara was bitten. We should know for certain by morning. Just one thing, Linda. I know this is your child, but you must be careful just in case the disease takes hold – please remember you have three other children you need to look after.”

  I turned away from Kate’s gaze as my eyes started to water, realising she was saying that Barbara might need to be terminated. Brian woke up with a start, perhaps feeling guilty that he had fallen asleep.

  “What’s happened? Is there any change?” he asked.

  “Barbara is still asleep, but Kate said her vital signs are still normal. We just have to wait until morning,” said Linda, leaving out Kate’s final comments.

  “I’ll try to arrange a cup of tea for you – won’t be long,” I said, leaving the room.

  “Make mine a coffee,” said Brian.

  “OK, see you soon,” I confirmed.

  As I approached the door to the banqueting room, I could hear the rattle of cups coming from the kitchen. I waved at the four teenagers and Jeffrey, who
had taken up residence in the conservatory. Entering the kitchen, I was greeted by Sara and Maria, who were in the process of making everyone’s last drink of the evening.

  “Can you do a tea for Linda and a coffee for Brian? I’ll take them through to the surgery,” I said.

  “Yes, of course we can,” replied Sara. “Maria and I can take them in. It would nice to know how Barbara is.”

  “Barbara was OK as of a couple of minutes ago,” I replied. “I’ll let Linda fill you in on the details – see you soon.”

  In the banqueting room, the Scrabble board and playing cards were out, dimly lit by an assortment of candles. I was greeted by Sheba with a vigorously wagging tail, but once she realised I had no food with me she returned to Mary’s side and lay at her feet. I walked over to Mary, Ruth and Josephine and told them about Barbara’s condition, and then sat between John and Miles to see how their luck was going with the game of rummy they were playing with Mat and Tom. The younger children had obviously been put to bed.

  “Do you want to join in, James?” asked Miles.

  “No, I’m a bit knackered, so I’ll just watch,” I replied.

  Maria and Sara supplied us with drinks, and I was quite content sipping my tea and making the occasional sarcastic comment about the players’ luck, or lack of it, as the game progressed.

  Mary finished the game of Scrabble she had been involved in, managing to come second. It was just past 11.00 pm and we decided to retire to our rooms. But first, Mary and I went to the surgery to see if there was any change in Barbara’s condition.

  Brian and Linda, both fully awake, were sitting in armchairs at the bedside.

  “Any change?” Mary asked, as quietly as possible.

  “No, not really,” Linda replied. “She did turn over onto her side, but other than that she hasn’t moved.”

  “Just make sure one of you is awake at all times, just in case,” I said softly.

  “I’d rather not think about it,” replied Linda.

  “OK, then – we’ll see you in the morning,” said Mary.

  “Let’s hope everything turns out OK. ’Night Brian, Linda,” I said, turning to go out with Mary following.

  We were soon in bed, with Sheba curled up contentedly at the bottom, as I listened to the sounds of the night. The squeal of some rats fighting over scraps of food was brought to an abrupt halt at one point and all went quiet, as an owl found its own evening meal.

  A strong breeze started to make the trees rustle and windows rattle. The last thing I remembered was the curtains being moved by the strengthening wind.

  Day Sixteen

  Tuesday 27 May 2014

  I awoke suddenly and completely. Looking to my left, I was surprised to find Mary still fast asleep. Checking our battery-operated clock, I saw in disbelief that it was 5.30 am. Then I remembered Barbara, and decided to get dressed as my first task was to check on her and her parents.

  I went downstairs to the surgery with Sheba in tow, and found Brian and Linda sleeping in the armchairs. Barbara appeared not to have moved since the previous night. I was craving my usual morning cup of tea, and returned to the kitchen.

  Ten minutes later, after feeding the dog and armed with a mug of tea, I went to the back of the farm and sat down in the patio area. The sun was hidden by white clouds racing across the sky, driven by a warm brisk south-westerly wind. Sheba lay down next to me once she realised it was not playtime. I finished the tea in less than ten minutes and was pondering whether to have another, but decided to visit the surgery again first. I opened the door carefully, not wanting to wake Brian, Linda or – especially – Barbara.

  I poked my head round the door and froze. Barbara was sitting up in bed, looking at the rope around her wrist, which she was trying to remove.

  “Barbara, how are you today?” I asked, getting no response of course.

  Linda was nearer to me than Brian, and I shook her shoulder.

  “Barbara is awake,” I said.

  Linda knew sign language and would be far better than me at communicating with her daughter, who was still trying to get rid of the rope.

  “What?” said Linda sleepily.

  “Barbara is awake,” I repeated.

  Linda sat bolt upright, now fully conscious. She levered herself from the chair and moved towards her daughter.

  “Wait, be careful!” I said. We could still not see Barbara’s eyes.

  Barbara finally managed to get the rope off her wrist, slid off the bed and stood beside it rather unsteadily. She sensed the movement in the room and looked straight into her mother’s eyes. Linda took in a deep breath and exhaled slowly with relief as she saw Barbara’s pure white eyes and blueish pupils, which seemed to say what’s wrong? Linda let out cry as she used sign language to communicate with her daughter. Barbara smiled and Linda passed the hearing aid over to her, with new batteries fitted.

  “What’s wrong?” a semi-conscious Brian enquired.

  “Barbara is OK!” said Linda with an enormous smile as Brian got out of the armchair. He began to smile, as did I.

  “Guys, I’ll get Kevin – he can give Barbara a thorough checkover, but the signs look good to me,” I said with a stupid fixed grin.

  I left the room and broke into jog as I climbed the rear stairs to Kevin’s room. I tapped on his door and called his name softly, but, not getting any response, I banged with considerable force and shouted. Finally, the door opened and the doctor appeared before me sleepily.

  “Barbara is awake,” I said, slightly breathlessly. “She seems be OK but I thought you should check her over.”

  “OK, give me a minute and I’ll be with you.”

  I started to head back towards the stairs when Miles appeared in front of me.

  “What’s up?” he asked.

  “Barbara’s awake and appears OK!”

  “Good news at last! I’ll tell Maria – be with you shortly,” Miles replied.

  “Dads, what’s up?” asked John.

  “Barbara is awake – I’m going back to the surgery now,” I repeated.

  “I’ll come with you.”

  John followed me down the stairs to the surgery, Miles following shortly after. Mary and Josephine were already in the room. It appeared I had woken everybody in the house, and I could hear children’s voices at the other end of the building.

  As I got to the surgery, Barbara was sitting on her father’s lap in the armchair, full of life and relishing the unexpected attention.

  Kevin entered the room. Brian signed his daughter to sit on the bed while Kevin checked her over with the stethoscope and blood pressure equipment.

  “John, thank God you shot that infected person just in time before he could pass on the disease,” said Brian.

  “Well, actually I’m sure I missed, mainly because he was moving his head so much,” John replied.

  “That would explain why there wasn’t a mark on his body when Mat and I removed him from the field,” added Tom, who had also arrived. “The other strange thing was that his eyes were partially white.”

  “That’s odd,” John commented. “When I looked at him through the telescopic sight, his eyes were the same bright red as all the other infected.”

  Kevin overheard our conversation and he suddenly looked up, smiling.

  “Could you repeat what you just said?” he asked both men.

  John and Tom went over the events again.

  “Linda, did you say Barbara had contracted meningitis when she was younger, which made her lose her hearing?” Kevin asked.

  “That’s correct. Why?” Linda replied.

  “I believe Barbara holds the key to a possible cure for the disease in her blood. What I don’t understand is why it had such a devastating effect on that infected. Somehow it needs to be tested in a proper laboratory environment.”

  “T
he government has been asking for any person who had survived an infected bite to go to a facility in Cambridge,” John recalled.

  “There’s no way you or I are running the risk of taking my daughter to Cambridge,” responded Brian forcefully.

  “That may not be necessary. All we need is a couple of blood samples,” Kevin observed.

  “OK, so who will be going?” I asked.

  I started to feel a little uncomfortable as everyone turned and looked at me.

  “I think we need to discuss this over a nice cup of tea,” I said finally.

  But that’s all another story.