Black Flagged Redux

Chapter 19





11:35 PM

Monchegorsk City Central First Aid Hospital

Monchegorsk, Russia





Dr. Valeria Cherkasov struggled up the poorly lit staircase to reach the third floor of the hospital. She had spent the last fourteen hours triaging patients in the overwhelmed ER and finally realized the futility of their efforts. Her trek up three flights of stairs, which was a physical feat in itself given her condition, was motivated by self-preservation more than any lofty Hippocratic ideals. The violence spilling off the streets had reached an unmanageable level, even for the heavily armed platoon assigned to the hospital from the reserve Military Police battalion. The ER served as a beacon for the entire city and had effectively become ground zero for the worst cases.

All of the other entrances to the hospital had been heavily barricaded, leaving the ER loading bay as the only point of entrance to the hospital. This had worked well for a while, since the steep ramp leading from the back street gave police officers and soldiers higher ground to control the massive crowd that extended nearly one hundred meters in each direction on the tight road. Once up the ramp, patients were corralled into the concrete walled ambulance parking area for initial inspection.

Triage efforts had devolved into more of an asylum process than a medical one, since the hospital had long ago ceased to exist as an effective medical facility. Patients were screened for severity of disease, with a focus on the far ends of the symptom display spectrum. Patients showing some promise of recovery were provided refuge on the third and fourth floor of the hospital, which were secured and patrolled by military reservists, augmented by the few remaining police officers. These patients were frequently reassessed for possible mental deterioration and removed if they started to exhibit violent or unpredictable behavior.

This represented the other end of the spectrum, and the second floor of the hospital had turned into a makeshift prison for the worst cases they could identify. Dr. Cherkasov and the remaining hospital staff had decided that this service would be just as important to the citizens of Monchegorsk. The second floor had previously contained an inpatient behavioral health ward and had been outfitted with security features not found on the other floors of the hospital. The presence of such a large ward within the small hospital had surprised Cherkasov when she first reported to the hospital, but she soon came to terms with the fact that Monchegorsk had a history of neurological and behavioral disorders, which were most likely related to decades of heavy metal pollution from the Norval Nickel plant.

She reached the second floor landing and nodded at the two soldiers standing guard at the reinforced metal door. Three more guards were posted inside and guarded the controls to the door locking system for the entire floor. Another set of soldiers sat on the other side of the building, in the eastern stairwell, guarding the other exit. Within the ward, all of the patients were restrained to beds, chairs or anything solid and stationary. Occasionally over the past few days, a patient would get loose and try to kill another patient or charge the door. Their rage was usually met by a hail of gunfire, and the body was dumped out of a window.

Cherkasov coughed violently into her thin surgical mask. Since experiencing the first skull splitting headache a few days earlier, her condition had progressively worsened. Flu-like symptoms, just like everyone else. She knew the two soldiers were watching her closely for any signs of sudden unpredictable behavior. Their platoon had suffered its share of casualties from violent behavior directed toward them. They had also seen the illness itself start to claim members of their tightly knit group. For whatever reason, most of the soldiers from the reserve Military Police battalion didn't get sick, and the ones that started showing signs of the mystery illness were significantly delayed from the general population of Monchegorsk.

Her symptoms had also been delayed compared to the majority of the hospital staff and citizens. She started to suspect that maybe the outbreak started while she was visiting friends in St. Petersburg. Two weekends ago she had taken the train to meet up with a group of her medical school friends to celebrate their five year graduation anniversary. They had all completed the final internship requirements for St. Petersburg State I.P. Pavlov Medical University in 2002. She had been fine until the weekend. Now, less than a week after her first headache, she was coming apart mentally and physically. She struggled to hold it together as she approached the soldiers sitting on chairs at the door. She didn't want to end up tied to a water pipe on the second floor.

"Good evening, Dr. Cherkasov," one of the soldiers said, adjusting the assault rifle within easy grasp along the wall.

"I wish it were good, but I don't see an end in sight. Anything new in there?" she said.

"It's getting bad. We had three get loose in the last hour alone. They're chewing through their restraints…and limbs. We can't take any more patients on this floor," the sergeant said.

"I understand. I'm heading up to talk to your platoon commander. I just gave the order to stop taking any additional patients at the hospital," she said, squinting through the pain of a migraine headache.

"You all right, Doctor?" he said, glancing at the younger soldier.

"I'm fine for now. Anyway, I'm going up to discuss an exit strategy with your lieutenant. Once word hits the street that we're not accepting patients, all hell will break loose. Worse than it already is. Hell, we've been pulling the wool over their eyes for a few days now. Bringing people inside for nothing. Maybe we can get some of the people on the upper floors relocated. I don't know," she said.

Cherkasov raised her foot to start the climb toward the third floor when the stairwell went dark. Three seconds later, the emergency lights activated, bathing them in an eerie orange glow. She didn't feel panicked by the darkness, instead all she wanted to do was hug the young private who had advised her to take the stairs. At first she had wanted to punch the soldier, but when he told her that they had no way to get her out in case of a power failure, she had relented and shuffled over to the staircase. At least something went right today. She started to laugh at the thought, but quickly changed the laugh into a cough. One inappropriate display of emotion could land her behind that metal door. Laughing in a dark stairwell during the middle of a pandemic easily qualified as improper. The sergeant's radio crackled and he brought it to his ear.

"Understood," he said and knocked on the metal door leading to the second floor.

He turned to Cherkasov.

"I'm pulling my men out of the ward. The locking mechanisms on these doors are dependent upon electricity, but they aren't connected to an emergency backup. F*cking idiots. We'll have to barricade from the outside to keep any of these crazies from escaping."

"Shit. All right. Good luck, sergeant."

Cherkasov continued her journey up the stairs, moving slowly through the severe muscle aches in her legs. She coughed most of the way up to the third floor landing. A bright light hit her face, followed by an authoritative announcement.

"Cherkasov is here," the guard said, lowering his assault rifle.

The light from the rifle's side-mounted flashlight left bright green splotches in her vision.

"Doctor, the lieutenant needs to talk to you immediately.

"Funny coincidence. I was just on my way up to see him."

Cherkasov passed the two grim-faced soldiers and entered the third floor. She was overcome by wailing and whimpering, as hospital staff tried to calm the patients crowded into every conceivable space offered by the modest hospital. Mattresses had been cannibalized from other floors to fill the gaps between beds. The staff and soldiers could barely move through the long hallway, which resembled a refugee camp dormitory. The two emergency lights on the floor, each located above the stairwell doors, barely cast enough light into the room.

To her immediate right, Lieutenant Altukhov and one other soldier sat huddled around a small coffee table that had been pushed into the corner. On the table sat an olive green communications backpack that held a military VHF radio. The lieutenant held the radio receiver to his ear, while furiously scribbling on a partially opened map with his other hand. The enlisted soldier held a flashlight over a map, illuminating the lieutenant's work.

"Hold on, Doc," the lieutenant said, still writing.

Gunfire erupted from below, catapulting the entire floor into hysterics. She could barely hear Lieutenant Altukhov yelling to her over the screams and cries for help.

"Doctor! The ER has been overrun. My men are retreating to the stairwells to cover our escape. It's time to abandon the hospital."

"Escape to where?" she said.

"Anywhere but here. My commander has lost all communications with the squad assigned to guard the power plant. There's no reason for the power to fail. He's pretty sure it was targeted."

"Targeted? By whom? How are we going to get all of these people out of here?"

"We're not. My orders are to leave immediately. Russian Federation forces have blocked all exits from the city and our observation posts report armored vehicles headed in this direction. The major is convinced that the government knocked out the power," the lieutenant said.

"Why would they do that?" she demanded.

The lieutenant folded the map and stood up from the table, issuing orders to the rest of the soldiers in the room. His radioman secured the radio and heaved the backpack onto his shoulders, handing him the receiver, which was attached to the radio by a thick elastic wire. The officer issued orders into the handset.

"What's going on?" she said, grabbing the young radioman.

"Ma'am. We're evacuating the hospital. The lieutenant is ordering the soldiers to hold the stairwells for two minutes. We'll all depart through the east stairwell," he said, pointing to the other side of the room.

"What about the patients?" she said, turning toward the room.

"I'm sorry, ma'am. We need to get out of here before Federation forces arrive," he said.

"Why? Aren't you Russian Federation military?" she said.

The lieutenant gave the handset back to the soldier and started walking toward the far stairwell exit while providing her with the answer to her last question.

"Not any more. Our unit was given orders to strip the armory and vacate the city two days ago. As you can see, we didn't obey that order…we all have families here. They'll shoot us on sight. They've already started to shoot civilians trying to drive north…before they hit the roadblocks."

"No. This can't be happening. I can't just leave these people," she said.

"The choice to stay is yours, but my men are leaving. We'll escort anyone who can move during the next two minutes. After that…they're on their own," he said and continued walking.

Cherkasov looked around for members of the hospital staff. She could see roughly a dozen men and women in green hospital scrubs engaged in calming the patients. She spent the next minute repeating what the lieutenant had told her, careful not to let any of the patients eavesdrop. Some of the staff were as sick as the patients and opted to stay. About half of them started to edge their way toward the eastern stairwell, torn between duty and personal safety. Once the soldiers disappeared, chaos would descend upon the entire hospital, pitting each of them against their own personal hell. Rape, torture, murder, burning…all at the hands of the deranged populace that was sure to swarm the hospital within minutes.

Valeria Cherkasov stood next to the door with the two soldiers left to guard their retreat down the stairwell. One of the men held a two-way radio to his ear, obviously not willing to take the slightest chance that he might miss the final withdrawal order. The radio chirped and he acknowledged the transmission before locking eyes with her.

"It's time," he said.

She glanced into the room one more time and saw one of the older nurses trying to calm a young mother who kept screaming. Her listless child lay with her on the mattress. She froze until the nurse turned her head and nodded, mouthing "go." Cherkasov found herself shuffling through the doorway and down the stairs. As she passed the metal door to the second floor, she heard gunshots inside. She paused on the landing and the sound of dampened gunshots continued. One of the soldiers prodded her with an elbow.

"Keep moving," she heard.

"What's happening in there?" she whispered.

"The right thing to do," one of the soldiers said.

BLACK OPS





Late April 2007