He entered the corridor highly attuned to the stillness. “Hello, can anyone hear me. Hello?” He felt vulnerable dressed in his pale blue hospital gown, Hawaiian shorts and flip-flops. He dragged the squeaking metal stand behind him. He pushed open each ward door, most were empty. Luke gulped down his fear and never wanting to miss a story gave a closer look to each of the remaining patients, but quickly determined, disappointingly, that it was not the work of a mass murderer.
They had all died of the same disease and bizarrely, they were all African-American. What were the odds? In his layman terms he presumed some sort of communicable disease, had killed them. Then why had he not succumbed? Did the fact the victims were all African-American have something to do with it. Could it be a rare bacterium that killed one race more swiftly than another? He vaguely remembered hearing that some drug cure for malaria had the adverse effect on the African-American soldiers out in Korea. He thought through the script of his next broadcast, which reminded him that he needed to find Kenny his cameraman. He felt like he had been hit with a brick as he remembered a glimpse of Kenny injured just before he passed out.
He pushed open a heavy rubber door to the vast kitchen and stepped back revolted as a stocky black rat shot through the gap in the door with a high-pitched squeal. “More rats!”
08:30 AM
Sophie could not believe it. Every single one of her colleagues had died during the night. She checked the symptoms and slowly one virus pushed its way to the forefront. She found it hard to contemplate the thought. If correct in her diagnosis — although she hoped upon hope that she was wrong — it could mean a pandemic of biblical proportions. She had heard the sneezes last night, not thought much of it, putting it down to summer colds. She had heard from colleagues that they were turning away patients with the aches and pains associated with flu-like symptoms, but she now realized what this could also be — she stopped short, she could not even say the name of the disease — not even to herself.
She looked down at the body of her dear friend, Juliet Miller, who had all the tale tell signs; the blood from nostrils, blood from her eyes, blood from her ears and from the foul odor she could smell, from the rectum. She saw burst, swollen buboes from under her arms and around her groin. Sophie shuddered as she thought of the suffering her friend must have gone through; the pain-racked sneezing, the aching of the swollen lymph glands, the pus-filled swellings in the armpits and groin, the blistering boils, the blackening of the skin, and most horrifically, in Juliet’s case, the skin over her cheek bones had torn, while she was still alive.
The rat stopped in the corridor and looked back at Luke. He watched the rodent who in turn watched him. The rat twitched his nose sizing him up. Luke thought of another story he could file on the hospital’s health standards, when he recalled that the hospital was closing down anyhow. “Hey, Mickey, which way?” he asked. The rat scurried off along the corridor. “OK, let’s go.”
Sophie turned startled as she heard the squeaking. The sound made the hairs stand up on her neck, an eerie scary sound. She did not spook on a usual day, but this was anything but a usual day. She headed out into the corridor. She saw the rat and screamed.
Luke jumped out of his skin. Sophie saw his movement and screamed again. He collapsed against the wall holding his heart. He finally got his breath back and said; “What’s up, Doc?”
She went to reply, when the corridor plunged into darkness.
12:25 PM
The Miami-Dade Health Authority has several hospitals in the predominately poor districts, one being the Good Samaritan hospital situated on Sandbank Island. The hospital building was to undergo transformation into exorbitantly expensive beachfront condominiums. The remaining stores were soon to have an upgrade to meet the wants and needs of the up market condo dwellers, but at present catered to the tourists who flocked to the island primarily for the long sandy beach, and the man-made coral reef out in the ocean that produced the rollers that in turn brought in the surfers.
One road led onto the island crossed by a cantilever bridge, one of many that cross the rivers and canals of Southern Florida, that opened to let tall boats pass, but in this case were opened to stop anyone getting on or off the island and currently being guarded by armed soldiers.
“Goddamn it!” said Luke when he spotted the soldiers.
“Can’t we wave to them, get them to lower the bridge to let us cross?” Sophie asked.
“I figure they’re protecting the mainland from us. They could’ve come over here, looked for survivors, even helping the survivors. Instead, they raise the bridge and put on an armed guard. Call me paranoid but I think they suspect a chemical attack or something.” He nodded across the stretch of water. “Look, they’re wearing gas-masks, whatever’s happened over here, you and I are immune. You’d figure that they would want to study us to discover what the disease is.”
“I know what it is,” she said.
Luke did not hear. “Or, most likely they’ll suspect us of the chemical attack. And Homeland Security can detain us, without lawyers for as long as they like. I don’t know about you, but I have a healthy distrust of the military.”
“The gas-masks won’t do them any good.”
“Why, what is it?”
“You’d laugh,” she said.
“Try me.”
She started to tell him then changed her mind. “Maybe later.”
“We’d better get under cover they’ve probably got a drone up there looking for movement.” Luke sauntered down the road in his hospital gown and flip-flops dragging the metal stand behind as if he did not have a care in the world. The sun beat down upon them, sapping their strength. The heat haze made the street shimmer. Luke gazed around at the abandoned parked vehicles, some with drivers dead behind the wheel. The virus had clearly gotten outside.
He entered a diner, “Let’s grab a drink, while I think of a brilliant idea to get us off the island,” he said. She looked heavenward, then followed him in.
The stifling heat inside the diner hit them immediately. “Man, it’s hot.”
“The AC’s off.” She pointed to stationary fans.
“I guess they’ve turned the power off to the island.”
“Can they do that?” she asked in surprise.
“Sure. My cell phone ain’t got a signal, yet the mast is on top of the hospital.” He told her. “They’ve crippled it somehow. So, we can’t get off the island, or let anyone know what’s going on.”
He went behind the counter, and tripped over the body of the owner. He popped open two Cokes from the cold shelf. He callously used the corpse for extra height, to reach an upper shelf. He passed a candy bar to her and had one for himself. “Breakfast.”
“What are you standing on?” Sophie asked, not wanting to know the answer.
“Erm, nothing,” he looked down guiltily at the corpse.
“Let me take your catheter out.” She withdrew the needle from the back of his hand, detaching him from the annoying squeaky stand.
A notion struck him and he asked her. “How come all the patients where African- Americans?”
“They weren’t.”
“Well, everyone I saw had black skin.”
“That’s one of the symptoms. In fact, that is why it is called; The Black –“
“Kenny!” he said suddenly. “My camera-man? How is he? I have a vague memory of him being injured?”
“I’m sorry, the gentleman admitted the same time as you did not make it.”