Rectify Page 3

  “Really? And to think I brought you chicken.”

  “You brought me chicken?”

  “I did.” She pulled out a container from her bag.

  “Wow. Thanks.” He took it. “In all seriousness June, you need to be careful.”

  “I’m good, James, I only have my street to worry about then I get to the main roads all the way here.”

  “Still, you don’t know. One red light and things can go bad. I was sitting at a red light just tonight and two of them slammed my window.”

  “Oh my God, what did you do?”

  “Nothing. I waited for the green light. I wanted to shoot them, but that’s illegal. Why is that? Why is it illegal to kill something so deadly?”

  June shrugged. “I don’t know. Control maybe. If they can control every aspect as much as they can, maybe it’s their way of believing they can control whatever is happening.”

  That was the only thing June could think of. Control. Every aspect was controlled when it come to the infected. Who was allowed to shoot them and who was not? Everyone had to be registered, if there was an infected in the home, it was illegal to keep them. Only police, military, emergency personnel and medical staff were allowed to kill them, or rather ‘rectify' them.

  “You know,” Doctor Ung said., “We are only one missed shot away from losing that control.”

  “I know. So … what is happening tonight?”

  “Before we get to that. You may want to read the revised procedural guidelines for medical personnel.”

  “More rules?” June asked.

  “More like revised.”

  “What’s new?”

  “Restraining.”

  “Please don’t tell me we aren’t allowed to restrain at all.”

  “No.” He shook his head. “In fact, they established that we are allowed to restrain before the final stages if we see or feel a threat.”

  “Thank God.” June exhaled. A week earlier an uproar entailed over restraints. People were complaining that their family members were being restrained unnecessarily.

  June didn’t get that. They were infected, they were about to becomes something extremely dangerous. For a moment June thought they’d have to stop restraining all together.

  Thankfully, that wasn’t the case.

  She took the memo from Doctor Ung. “Oh, look,” she said. “A nifty frequently asked question section.”

  “Don’t.

  June read, “When should we restrain?”

  “June.”

  She changed her voice. “Restraining should only be applied to progeny cases and only when patient is in the third stage, sooner if irritation is present. Restraining is also recommend when rectification is delayed. No shit ...”

  “June,” Doctor Ung said. “I read the whole …”

  “What if patient refuses restraints?” June read. “Oh, this is good.” She cleared her throat. “Explain to patient and family that restraints are for the safety of patient and those around them. If patient still refuses to comply, secure and seal patient in isolation until R-team can be called post revival.”

  “Okay, done?”

  “It doesn’t say anything about sedation proceedings.”

  “We’re not supposed to sedate unless they ask for it.”

  “That sucks.”

  “Yes, I know now …”

  “And if we are supposed to be PC, not restrain, just let them destroy a room until R-team can come and shoot them.”

  “That’s the law. You have patients. We have a lobby full and we need to process and transfer to the ward. There’s also about six we’ll probably need to rectify.”

  “I hate this.”

  “It’s easier now,” Ung said.

  “Physically.” June stood.

  “They’re gone at that point, June.”

  “Not ... not quite yet.” She stood. “And I’m not fast enough. I’ll sedate. Let’s go do this.”

  “Hey, June.”

  June stopped walking. “Yeah?”

  “County hasn’t been in since the onset. They won’t know and won’t review records.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I know I joked about being one shot away from losing control, but … this is going to get ahead of us.” Ung also stood, waving June to follow him to the back room. “I want to show you something.” He opened a folder. “I’ve been keeping track. When we reopened the hospital, what six weeks ago? We were seeing roughly eighty percent derivation cases to twenty-percent progeny.” He shifted the page. “Two weeks later that eighty percent went down to seventy. Last week … we were seeing fifty, fifty. This week, that’s shifting even more.”

  “Do you think the virus is finally dying down?” June asked.

  “No. I just think people are taking care of their own. Not bringing them in like they’re supposed to, parents are getting the Mother or Father complex, taking care of their kids and in turn …”

  “They get sick.”

  “They get sick, yes. They come here for help because they can’t take the pain. Pain from the virus, the bite, whatever. Problem is, where are the children? Where is the person who got sick and revived?”

  “That’s why there are so many on the streets.”

  Ung nodded. “You’re going to have the person who can’t get in here. But if it all went as instructed, if every person called for retrieval or came in. If they called for R-Team, there wouldn’t be the masses of Codies on the street. This is only going to get worse and the infected number of caretakers will grow.”

  “Basically, it was all good in theory, but it will be worthless."

  “That’s my belief,” Ung said. “In my opinion, they’ll just have to move the healthy unaffected to areas and do a mass destruction, or leave the Codies to die out.”

  “That’s sad, they aren’t really dead.”

  “Yeah, they are, June. They are technically dead,” Ung said. “The brain revives, the soul is gone.”

  “When do you think it will flip completely?”

  Ung shrugged. “I don’t know, but if it continues on this pattern a few weeks, a month maybe. Let’s go make those rounds.”

  A few weeks or a month was a scary thought to June, that would mean a return to the chaos and calamity, the insanity. If that were to happen, June would be prepared, but she hoped Doctor Ung was wrong.

  8 – RECTIFY

  It was always the same and was protocol. Medical staff entered each treatment room in pairs. It was safer that way. The admissions nurse usually noted if the patient was in an early phase or late phase. If they were in the late transition phase, they stayed in the emergency department until the end. If early, the attending doctor would have them moved to the ward, where doctors and military handled them. June was glad she hadn’t been drafted to work in one of those places. It was a lottery system, only those picked … lost.

  Making her rounds, June missed the good old days of broken bones and lacerations. She had seen one case of non-CO-D4 in the past two weeks. No one came in for simple stuff, actually no one came in for anything but the virus or repercussions caused from it.

  Trauma rooms eighteen through twenty-four were reserved for suspected transition stages. A nurse’s cart was in the hall with all supplies needed.

  June and nurse Patrick made their way to room nineteen.

  “Sixty-eight year old female, suspected late stage, her eyes are already hemorrhaging.”

  “Demeanor.”

  “Calm.”

  June paused before room nineteen. A tray was there and on it was the instrument they used to rectify. Out in plain view. The tool looked like an old school pair of ice block tongs, complete with the long pointed and sharp ends that would penetrate the skull in one quick pull of the handles. Handles go out, points go in. It wasn’t easy the first time June tried, she figured it was her own apprehension that caused the lack of force. She preferred to sedate them then drill a hole to kill the brain. The tongs were better for the patient. Quick an
d final.

  She covered the instrument and walked into the room.

  It was reminiscent of days gone by of the ER. The patient laying on the bed, a family member in a chair next to them.

  “Mrs. Logan,” June waked in the room, “I’m Doctor Mannis.”

  The woman seated in the chair stood and leaned over the bed. “Mom?” She removed headphones from the older woman. “Mom.”

  Mrs. Logan jumped a little, startled. “I was sleeping. Sorry.”

  “The doctor is here.”

  June stepped closer the bed. She saw the eyes, the bloody tears that welled in the corners and slowly rolled down her cheeks. It was apparent Mrs. Logan was near the end. “Mrs. Logan, how are you feeling?”

  “Bad. Every part of me hurts.”

  “I can give you something to make you more comfortable,” June said.

  “No. No. I want to be fully aware when I leave this earth. I don’t know how any drugs will affect me. I know how this ...” She indicted to the headphones. “Will.” She then placed them on again and closed her eyes.

  June looked curiously to her daughter.

  “Classical music,” the Daughter said. “It always calms her. She said maybe it will help if she … if she … you know, comes back.”

  Patrick leaned into June, whispering. “A lot of people say, ‘how you go out is how you come back’.”

  That made sense to June. The raging Codies were usually the agitated Codies just before they went.

  June still needed information for her records and to send to the CDC. “When did your mother start feeling ill?”

  “About an hour after she was bit.”

  June stopped writing. “She was bit?”

  “On her ankle, yes. She … she was taking care of several family members who are ill.”

  June hurriedly lifted the bottom of the sheet, it was barely noticeable and she examined the small bite on the ankle of Mrs. Logan. She looked at Patrick.

  “Tiny,” Patrick said. “Had to be a direct hit to the vein.”

  “That’s the only way to get ill so fast.” June then turned to the daughter. “This is the reason you are not supposed to take care of those who are infected. We have wards.”

  “We know that. You know that. Everyone does. How do you just turn over the people that you love?” the daughter asked. “I brought her in because of how much pain she’s in.”

  It didn’t make sense to June. Not at all. Obviously, Mrs. Logan was in the transition phase, ready to pass away. She also was clearly a progeny case, yet, she was calm. Eyes closed, slight smile on her face. “I’m going to go get Doctor Ung, I’ll be right back.” June set down the chart and walked from the bed, no sooner did she get to the door, Patrick called her.

  “Doctor Mannis.”

  June stopped and turned around.

  “She’s … she’s gone,” Patrick said.

  The woman’s daughter sobbed out and June walked back to the bed. She reached down, touching the woman. Mrs. Logan immediately had lost her color, that was common. June couldn’t feel a pulse or see any signs of breathing.

  “Doctor Mannis?” Patrick asked. “Rectify now?”

  June just started at Mrs. Logan. “Patrick get me the restraints.”

  “Restraints? She passed away.”

  “I know.”

  “We have a few minutes. We need to rectify.”

  “No,” June replied, her eyes transfixed on Mrs. Logan. “Not just yet. There’s something I need to see first.”

  “The classical Music?” Patrick asked.

  “Didn’t you say, ‘the way you go out is the way you come back’?”

  “I’ll get the restraints.” Patrick hurried from the room.

  June’s focus remained on Mrs. Logan for a second, staring at the headphones and the wire that ran from them to a phone. “Whatever you do,” June told the daughter. “Don’t shut off the music.”

  9 – TRIAL AND ERROR

  Doctor Ung rarely, if ever, raised his voice. Even when mad, he kept that annoying smug tone, rarely changing infliction. That almost wasn’t the case when he scolded June, “You did what!”

  “No, listen to what …”

  “No,” he cut her off. “There is no reasoning here. Thank God Patrick told me.”

  June turned to Patrick. “Tattletale.”

  “Really?” Ung snapped. “You’re calling him a tattletale. Grow up.”

  June scoffed. “He was all compliant when I told him. He got the restraints.”

  “That was before I realized you weren’t gonna rectify at all. There are laws,” Patrick defended. “I’m sorry. They’re there for a reason.”

  “That right there.” Ung pointed back toward the hall. “That situation in room nineteen is the reason, you are the reason right now, that those laws are going to fail. This is what I was saying earlier. This is exactly how it will get ahead of us.”

  “Can’t you see the science in this?” June asked.

  “Science?” Ung asked.

  “Yes.” June nodded. “There’s a saying about the infected, how you go out is how you come back.”

  Doctor Ung groaned. “How you go out is how you come back, is a rumor, it isn’t science.”

  “But she was calm when she went out. She is a progeny strain, she was calm when she should have been out of control. She revived … calm.”

  “June, I am well aware of the calm out, calm back, rage out, rage back, thing. I am,” Ung told her. “But even calm doesn’t make her any less dangerous.”

  “We don’t know that.”

  “Yes, we do.”

  “What if … what if a part of her is still—”

  “Stop.” Ung held up his hand. “They are dead.”

  “No, technically …”

  “Technically my ass. They’re gone, June. The body may still have a semblance of life, but they are gone. That part of you that loves, feels, that part of you is gone. Gone, that is what makes us alive and human and not want to bite off someone’s face and eat them.”

  “James, we know nothing about this virus,” June said calmly. “We know what we report. Fever, symptoms, length of time until revival, they expire, revive and we rectify or call R-Team. But we haven’t studied this. If someone else has we don’t know about this. This virus is threatening mankind’s existence. It is the enemy, we need to know it. Right now we don’t. Let me go through with this. Just go see her. She is different.”

  Ung looked at her for a few seconds. “Fine.”

  “Doctor Ung?” Patrick questioned.

  “If there’s something there,” Ung said. “We need to know. Let me go see Mrs. Logan.”

  Patrick seemed irritable to June, she didn’t understand why, nor did she ever take him for a stickler for rules. Perhaps he was just scared, she thought. They all were one way or another.

  Mrs. Logan had revived.

  Her daughter Stacy still stayed by her side, and Mrs. Logan wore the headphones, her hands and feet restrained.

  Doctor Ung approached the bed and into Mrs. Logan’s line of sight. She merely looked at him, she didn’t attempt to attack or reach for him.

  “Watch,” June said and approached the bed.

  “What are you doing?” Ung asked.

  “Watch.” June had a towel wrapped around her forearm and she extended it toward Mrs. Logan.

  “What are you doing? Are you nuts?” Ung pulled her back.

  “She doesn’t even try.”

  “What happens when you remove the headphones?” Ung asked.

  “We haven’t tried.”

  Doctor Ung walked behind the bed and carefully lifted the headphones. Mrs. Logan moved her head about as if looking for them. He replaced them.

  “Classical music calms her,” June said. “Has to be the reason she’s like that.”

  “Classical music doesn’t calm everyone,” Ung said. “It annoys me. You realize this is the exception, not the rule. I’m not meaning to be a downer here, but I have to be reali
stic.”

  “We should try to see if it’s the exception,” June said. “Go to the ward, find those willing to try. See if we can repeat this. If we can lessen the danger, we can lessen the spread.”

  Doctor Ung exhaled heavily, and ran his hand over his mouth. “They are human beings. Not guinea pigs.”

  “But what if something like this can help them retain more human instincts?”

  “You’re reaching, June,” Ung said. “There is nothing behind her eyes.” He looked at Stacy. “I’m sorry, that was cold.”

  “We need to continue this with her,” June suggested. “See when, and if, she goes violent.”

  Doctor Ung pursed his lips and looked at Stacy, “This is your mother. I will rectify her if you want. I will do it. Your call.”

  “Is her heart still beating?” Stacy asked.

  “Like ten beats per minute, maybe,” Ung scoffed at the question.

  “Then as long as her heart is beating, she isn’t fully dead, she may come back.”

  “She’s not coming back,” Ung said, “Not from this.”

  Stacy folded her arms, staring at her mother. “I’d like to let Doctor Mannis continue.”

  “Fine.” Ung raised his eyebrows and walked to the door. “I want her moved to the third floor. No one is up there. Hear me out though, the second she gets violent. Family permission or not …” He paused and looked back. “Rectify her.”

  10 – MAJOR TOM

  Seventeen years of dedicated service to his country, nine tours of duty, Tom Leland made it from enlisted man to officer, the long and hard way. He was good at what he did, and the fact that Tom had no emotional attachments made his job easier.

  He was respected in the field because he would never expect his soldiers to do anything he wouldn’t do.

  When duty called at home, when he found himself having to raise arms, he took the call, because Tom knew he was not only doing it for his country, he was doing it for humanity.

  Gone was the term battalion. They were no longer called Soldiers, Marines, or Seamen, they were a R-Team.

  From one battlefield to the next, the elite were placed in groups of eight, rectification squads that moved from one place to another in an area.