Memories of Life

18. Panic.

Ten weeks after the first reports fifty-million were already dead, when a case of UP01 in Ceena was diagnosed. The name was now official, if simplistic, with science still failing to find a cause. The most plausible theory Robert had heard came from a French physicist he had seen on a video, after scanning the NET one evening. He had proposed that the pathogen was somehow innate within the population. No laboratory or screening process was yet to discover what it was, or how it was transmitted. The immune system that would normally give some indication of defending itself remained passive, even during the symptomatic stage until death. Autopsies had revealed that it was the nervous system that was mostly affected. Its cells were swelling and bursting much like a normal infection would cause, yet there was no detectable culprit. The physicist went on to explain that after the initial cluster, cases were unlinked and so random, that there was a possibility everyone had already been infected. So therefore all efforts must be directed in looking at it in a new way. He offered suggestions at researching it at the molecular level of genetics, pulling the human DNA apart strand by strand to find a fault. Finally, he concluded that if it was a failure of the human genome, then it was one of the smartest tricks played upon it of all times And that God was possibly to blame.

Robert read the comments linked to the video, having to agree with some. How was it that a disease could remain dormant, and undetected for so long in the heavily researched field of genetics? Even more implausible, was the notion that it could spontaneously act in unison. Leaving Robert to think that maybe God was responsible; for no human was yet capable of conjuring such a thing?

Robert sat alone in his work office when Leesa called. She was crying as she described the desperate scenes at the hospital when news of the fist death had filtered throughout the town. Until now people had been going about their business in an attempt to maintain a normalcy. Though there were always reminders of the evolving unknown, with small shops closing, and larger chains reducing opening hours to assure supplies.

"I can't believe it Rob." Leesa sobbed. "It's Wendy Croft. She only came in last night - and now she's dead."

Robert pressed the phone against his ear hard, wishing he was there to hold her.

"I hope June doesn't find out till we get home." She added, regaining her composure slightly.

"It's okay Lees'." Feeble words Robert knew.

Leesa began to cry again. "I saw her parents Rob. It was just terrible. All I could think about was the horrible things I had said about her."

"Just pack up, and go home. . ." Robert commanded as loud voices in the background suddenly drowned Leesas' sobbing. "What's happening!?" Robert yelled into the phone as Leesa called his name, before the line dropped out.

Hurriedly he redialled her number receiving a no service message. Picking up the landline he dialled the hospitals number, only to hear a recorded message requiring him to queue and wait for an operator to be with him shortly.

"This is pointless." Robert growled slamming the phone down. He had been delusional to think that work mattered, or even helped. David and June were right, they needed to look after themselves until somebody solved whatever was happening. Thinking for a moment Robert grabbed his keys, phone, and wallet off the desk. Then made his way down the hall to the staff room. Opening his locker, he removed his field pack empting its contents of, overalls, notebook and pens onto the floor. Feeling the front pocket Robert made sure his first-aid kit was still there, then proceeded down stairs to the lab.

A young technician named Phil was playing a game on the computer, while waiting for a specimen to process. He didn't even lift his head when Robert opened the medication cupboard, and began removing boxes, and vials of medication he thought might be useful, or applicable to humans. Moving on to one of the storage cupboards, he then removed boxes of batteries, shoving them into the pack along with syringes and needles.