Chapter 2
I remember the first time I ever saw one of them. Tyler Lewis, the most popular guy in school, was sitting in the back corner of the classroom with the usual flock of admirers crowded around him. The period hadn't begun yet and this is when he usually fulfilled his daily ritual of showing off videos from the internet that he had found. I didn't hate or blame him for being the cool guy. Tyler's dad owned half of our small town in different fleets of fishing vessels He was also the only kid in our high school of 60 people to own a car made within this decade. He was an attractive, confident guy and couldn't help but humbly receive the attention given to him every step he took.
I threw my backpack down and slumped into my spot up towards the front of class. I wasn't nerdy enough to sit in the front row, but knew I'd learn more here than back with the sleepers. Sleepers. That's what they started to call the infected around the time they were shutting down New York.
As I situated myself at my desk, I realized that the usual squeals and giggles from Tyler's crowd weren't annoying me like they usually did. I looked in their direction and realized it wasn't his usual crew at all, but that the whole class was gathered around his computer screen in solemn silence.
Easing myself towards the back corner of Mr Thompson's classroom, I heard the twangy voice of a news anchor being pushed through laptop speakers, "At least 30 new cases have been reported so far in lower Manhattan. Pathologists have yet to classify this illness, but believe that it is viral and that it is blood borne."
That newscast was aired in February. Manhattan was cut off in the first days of March. That was due to the discovery that the epidemic was caused by a retrovirus much like HIV. It was the long hypothesized super virus that the CDC had been dreading and praying would never arise. It entered the body- usually through a bite or scratch, and would follow the neurons- your body's neurological highway- back to the brain where it would start it's work. The virus masked itself in the bodies own proteins- a stealthy advantage that it allowed it to go undetected by immunizations and the bodies defenses. Chances for finding a cure were slim. It would take years with a modern laboratory. None of those existed anymore.
"The Center for Disease Control has isolated these patients in an attempt to quench the growing numbers of citizens being taken by this illness," continued the news anchor. I was slowly inching closer to the screen, making my way though the small crowd of classmates. I situated myself behind the prettiest girl in class and had to refocus my perfume-intoxicated mind back to the newscast. If it were at all possible, the newscaster turned even more grim as he continued his explanation of the illness, "We have obtained footage taken at the hospital where the first known patient was observed. We warn viewers at home that the following footage is disturbing and graphic in nature."
The video was being shot from a surveillance camera set at one end of a small rectangular brick room. The walls were a sterile white and devoid of any decoration except for the two way mirrors lining all but one of the walls. It looked more like an interrogation room that you would see in the old crime solving TV shows than a hospital room. The room was empty except for a rolling gurney situated in the center of the room being occupied by a teenage girl that looked about our age. She would later become known as Patient X. She was the first known case of the illness. Nobody knew who she was or where she had come from. An NYU student by the name of Ethan Potts had found her unconscious on a subway and had brought her in to the hospital. Ethan became the second infected patient observed. From there, the list of names grew too long too fast to remember the individuals.
"That chick looks just like James!" muttered one of the kids behind me. It was true. With the zoomed out, fuzzy picture of the camera we did look alike. Her hair was the same dirty blonde color, but not as curly as mine. My hair was not tamable It drove my mom nuts to see me walk out the door everyday without brushing my hair, but she knew it made no difference whether or not I did it in the morning- my hair was going to be a mess by the end of the day anyways.
The camera view changed to one facing the bed directly, the camera focusing on the patients face. The resolution was higher with this camera and the room had been mic'ed, allowing us to hear everything going on inside.
Her pale face glistened with sweat. A heart monitor whirred on a stand next to her bed. I knew very little at that time about human anatomy, but I knew enough to know that her heart rate was way too fast. Her hands gripped the sides of her bed in panic as her eyes darted around the room as if looking for relief.
Again the camera view switched- this time back to the surveillance camera. We could still hear what was going on in the room as we watched a team of doctors working in a frenzy to revive her lifeless body. The heart monitor was still on and the constant wail of the flatline was drowned out by the head doctor taking notes. "No Pulse, hemorrhaging of the mucous membranes is apparent in both the oral and nasal cavities..." He continued rattling off medical information. I have watched that video countless times. How little they knew. I wonder what actions they would have taken if they would have known they had just brushed up against the first fatality of a plague that would decimate two thirds of the world's population in just a matter of months.
The scene jumped ahead and the room was again empty. The lights had been dimmed, the observation room no longer in active use. Her corpse lay there covered, the single light in the room directly over her. The picture went unchanging for a whole 12 seconds. From the detailed medical records that were released to the public at the height of the CDC's investigation, I learned that patient x was immobile for a full three hours after the moment of her death.
The group around the laptop screen had grown silent, huddling even closer together than before. There was a soft sigh, a twitch of the leg, and patient x started moving underneath the plastic sheet. Lights flared back to life in the small room and a staff of stunned doctors rushed in to her bedside within seconds.
What came next would define the future of humanity as we knew it. Patient x lurched from her bed. Her hair fell in front of her face and she stepped towards the nearest doctor. He moved as if to encourage her to lay back down, but before he could, a grating his came from her mouth. The hiss made my hair stand on end. It was almost like the sound that my grandma's cat would make when we poked at her, but fuller and more violent. Before the doctor had said a thing, she had grabbed him.
One by one they were bit, and rushed out of the room by supporting doctors. Dead within the hour. Reanimated and killing a half hour after that. The hospital became ground zero, Manhattan was overrun soon after.
That newscast was aired in February. Manhattan was cut off in the first days of March. That was due to the discovery that the epidemic was caused by a retrovirus much like HIV. It was the long hypothesized super virus that the CDC had been dreading and praying would never arise. It entered the body- usually through a bite or scratch, and would follow the neurons- your body's neurological highway- back to the brain where it would start it's work. The virus masked itself in the bodies own proteins- a stealthy advantage that it allowed it to go undetected by immunizations and the bodies defenses. Chances for finding a cure were slim. It would take years with a modern laboratory. None of those existed anymore.
"The Center for Disease Control has isolated these patients in an attempt to quench the growing numbers of citizens being taken by this illness," continued the news anchor. I was slowly inching closer to the screen, making my way though the small crowd of classmates. I situated myself behind the prettiest girl in class and had to refocus my perfume-intoxicated mind back to the newscast. If it were at all possible, the newscaster turned even more grim as he continued his explanation of the illness, "We have obtained footage taken at the hospital where the first known patient was observed. We warn viewers at home that the following footage is disturbing and graphic in nature."
The video was being shot from a surveillance camera set at one end of a small rectangular brick room. The walls were a sterile white and devoid of any decoration except for the two way mirrors lining all but one of the walls. It looked more like an interrogation room that you would see in the old crime solving TV shows than a hospital room. The room was empty except for a rolling gurney situated in the center of the room being occupied by a teenage girl that looked about our age. She would later become known as Patient X. She was the first known case of the illness. Nobody knew who she was or where she had come from. An NYU student by the name of Ethan Potts had found her unconscious on a subway and had brought her in to the hospital. Ethan became the second infected patient observed. From there, the list of names grew too long too fast to remember the individuals.
"That chick looks just like James!" muttered one of the kids behind me. It was true. With the zoomed out, fuzzy picture of the camera we did look alike. Her hair was the same dirty blonde color, but not as curly as mine. My hair was not tamable It drove my mom nuts to see me walk out the door everyday without brushing my hair, but she knew it made no difference whether or not I did it in the morning- my hair was going to be a mess by the end of the day anyways.
The camera view changed to one facing the bed directly, the camera focusing on the patients face. The resolution was higher with this camera and the room had been mic'ed, allowing us to hear everything going on inside.
Her pale face glistened with sweat. A heart monitor whirred on a stand next to her bed. I knew very little at that time about human anatomy, but I knew enough to know that her heart rate was way too fast. Her hands gripped the sides of her bed in panic as her eyes darted around the room as if looking for relief.
Again the camera view switched- this time back to the surveillance camera. We could still hear what was going on in the room as we watched a team of doctors working in a frenzy to revive her lifeless body. The heart monitor was still on and the constant wail of the flatline was drowned out by the head doctor taking notes. "No Pulse, hemorrhaging of the mucous membranes is apparent in both the oral and nasal cavities..." He continued rattling off medical information. I have watched that video countless times. How little they knew. I wonder what actions they would have taken if they would have known they had just brushed up against the first fatality of a plague that would decimate two thirds of the world's population in just a matter of months.
The scene jumped ahead and the room was again empty. The lights had been dimmed, the observation room no longer in active use. Her corpse lay there covered, the single light in the room directly over her. The picture went unchanging for a whole 12 seconds. From the detailed medical records that were released to the public at the height of the CDC's investigation, I learned that patient x was immobile for a full three hours after the moment of her death.
The group around the laptop screen had grown silent, huddling even closer together than before. There was a soft sigh, a twitch of the leg, and patient x started moving underneath the plastic sheet. Lights flared back to life in the small room and a staff of stunned doctors rushed in to her bedside within seconds.
What came next would define the future of humanity as we knew it. Patient x lurched from her bed. Her hair fell in front of her face and she stepped towards the nearest doctor. He moved as if to encourage her to lay back down, but before he could, a grating his came from her mouth. The hiss made my hair stand on end. It was almost like the sound that my grandma's cat would make when we poked at her, but fuller and more violent. Before the doctor had said a thing, she had grabbed him.
One by one they were bit, and rushed out of the room by supporting doctors. Dead within the hour. Reanimated and killing a half hour after that. The hospital became ground zero, Manhattan was overrun soon after.
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