Black Flagged Redux

Chapter 12





10:07 PM

Monchegorsk City Central First Aid Hospital

Monchegorsk, Russia





Doctor Valeria Cherkasov approached the emergency room's wide automatic doors and paused. In all of her four years at the hospital, the doors had never functioned properly. Several bloody noses had taught her to never assume the doors would open swiftly. This evening was no exception, and her patience was rewarded when the doors hesitated on their tracks and struggled to open. An ambulance pulled into one of three empty parking spaces, which were kept clear of cars by armed police officers. Its emergency strobe lights bathed the concrete walls of the ER parking alcove in icy blue flashes. More cases. Doctor Cherkasov walked through the door into the freezing night and followed a ramp down to the street level, wishing she had grabbed her winter coat. She ducked behind the corner of the hospital and nearly ran into a couple smoking cigarettes. Vasily, an x-ray technician, and Mila, one of the ER's medical assistants, had formed the same idea as Cherkasov—a brief respite from the madness that had descended upon the hospital over the past forty-eight hours.

"I guess the secret is out," Cherkasov said, taking a pack of cigarettes out of the front pocket of her white lab coat.

"That you smoke? Not really. Though you've done a decent job of concealing it. A smoker can always spot another smoker," Vasily said, dragging deeply on his cigarette.

"Ironically, I didn't start smoking until medical school. Some example of health, huh?" she said.

"We won't hold it against you. I might shake you down for a few shots of vodka in town though," Mila said.

"A few shots of vodka sound pretty good right about now," Cherkasov said.

Vasily held an expensive-looking metal lighter out for the doctor, who accepted the offer and inhaled her first lungful of tobacco smoke in several hours. She closed her eyes for a moment as the nicotine did its job, briefly taking her away from the mayhem.

"Everyone will be smoking if this gets any worse. Any ideas, doctor?" he said.

"I've never seen anything like it. I thought it was the flu at first, but some of the patients are starting to show signs of sudden, severe aggression. Others go catatonic, then burst out of it in fits of nonsense. I've seen occasional cases of rabies that caused this kind of behavior, but nothing on this scale," she said.

The words "nothing on this scale" were an understatement given what they were seeing. The hospital had filled to capacity earlier in the day, finally overwhelmed by patients complaining of flu symptoms and severe headaches. City officials had graciously opened an abandoned school building next door to the hospital, to serve as a makeshift site for less severe patients. It took a while for the heating system to be restored, but it now housed at least a hundred patients in cots supplied by the nearby Air Force base. To Cherkasov, this looked like the beginnings of a pandemic and she had sent numerous samples to the main hospital in Murmansk, where they could be properly analyzed. The hospital laboratory here in Monchegorsk was still in the dark ages, and only the most obvious and basic lab confirmations could be made.

She had also insisted on sending several of the early patients, with the hopes of shedding light on the mystery disease's pathology. The signs of aggression in patients disturbed her the most, since it suggested a disease that could affect the brain's temporal lobe, like rabies or encephalitis. The hospital could conduct a spinal tap to collect cerebrospinal fluid, but they had no way to confirm the presence of either disease without a proper laboratory. The hospital in Murmansk was well equipped to do this and even had MRI capabilities, which could detect the temporal lobe damage that might explain the sudden aggressive behavioral swings. They hadn't heard anything definitive from the hospital in Murmansk, other than to stop sending patients.

"I heard that one of the nurses on the third floor was raped right inside a patient room," Mila said.

Dr. Cherkasov didn't want to start down this road, but she saw no real choice.

"It's true. The two men were removed very quickly by police, and the nurse is at a private facility. The hospital administration didn't want a panic among staff. We're taking precautions to prevent future attacks. More orderlies, two person rule…"

"Army soldiers and police," Vasily continued.

"Unfortunately. I heard they activated the military police component of the city's reserve army battalion. I'm not sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing," the doctor said.

"It's better than getting raped in one of the hospital wards," Mila said.

"I agree, but I don't see the situation getting better any time soon," Cherkasov said, nodding at something down the street.

They all turned to look in the direction she indicated and saw several people walking down the street toward the hospital. Nothing to be alarmed about on the surface, but it signified an accelerating trend. The number of people walking in off the streets had increased significantly as the day progressed, and it appeared there was no break in sight. Maybe an armed company of military police wasn't such a bad idea after all. The situation at the hospital could degrade very quickly at this rate. With a population of fifty-two thousand, they had barely scratched the surface with the few hundred patients housed within the hospital and the converted school. They were well above maximum capacity as it stood, and supplies were thinning quicker than anyone had ever imagined. Within twenty-four hours, they would have to turn people away and tell them to drink plenty of fluids.

She stared out over Lake Lumbolka, taking in the fading light of the northwestern skyline. The dark orange sun hovered on the horizon, radiating rich hues that competed with the bleak snow-covered landscape, casting a starkly beautiful reflection over the blackish ice covering the lake. She loved the long days of spring and longed for the endless summer days. Her brief escape was shattered by the sound of gunfire in the distance, from the direction of the city, she thought. The people on the street looked behind them and started to shuffle quickly up the street. Dr. Cherkasov threw her cigarette to the ground and stepped on it.

"You're one of the doctors, right?" said a middle aged man bundled in warm clothing, holding a child in his arms.

"Yes. What's going on?" she said and heard some whimpering from the group behind the man and his child.

"My daughter has the flu and terrible headaches. We all have headaches, and one of the women was attacked. Stabbed in the arm. Things started to go crazy in our building. It's not safe to leave your apartment. We banded together to get some of the sickest people here to the hospital," he said.

"All right, let's get you inside. Come on, help me out with these people," she said to her companions.

Vasily and Mila extinguished their cigarettes and jumped into action, helping to herd the dozen civilians up the ramp toward the entrance. Halfway up the concrete ramp, Dr. Cherkasov was hit by a splitting pain in her head and for a moment thought she had been hit over the skull with a tire iron. She buckled slightly, but held it together, realizing she hadn't been hit with anything.

"You all right?" Vasily whispered.

"F*cking headache hit me like a hammer. I've felt like shit all day, but this was different," she said.

"Welcome to the club. We've all been getting them. Drink plenty of water…it seems to help," he said.

As the doctor approached the door, trailing the group of patients, she heard two more gunshots from the direction of the city.

"Stay alert. Things are getting worse," she said to the police officer directing the ambulance out of the parking lot.

He simply nodded.