Plague

CHAPTER 42

Dr. Gerald Amoy looked down at the streets of Honolulu. Streets he had once loved and known like the inside of his home. He grew up running around on these very streets with a gang-not much more than just some neighborhood kids calling themselves a gang. They would steal candy bars and throw water balloons off buildings. Later, in their teenage years, they would break into cars and sell marijuana at school. As far as he knew, he was the only one of his childhood friends that hadn’t been to jail.

“Doctor?”

He turned and saw a nurse, Heather Yang, standing there in blue scrubs. She had volunteered to stay at the hospital and help those that needed help; one of only twelve out of a staff of hundreds.

“Yes?”

“Our runner came back from the urgent care clinic. They’re out of antibiotics as well. They did have a few boxes of gauze and rubber gloves but I think we were good on those.”

“Okay,” he said, sighing. “What about the pharmacies?”

“I’ve heard they were cleared out a long time ago.”

“They might not have taken the antibiotics.”

“Maybe. I don’t think your average dopehead knows the difference. They probably took everything to sort it out later.”

“Send someone around anyway.”

“You got it.”

“And Heather? It’s coming to the point where we’re not doing anything but keeping these people comfortable. I don’t need you here for that. You should go home.”

She looked to the floor. “Tim died two weeks ago.”

Amoy didn’t say anything at first. It was something he had heard so much of that he’d grown numb to it. But he knew that some sort of condolences were the proper response and so he said, “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

She nodded, fighting the tears that were rolling down her cheeks. “This takes my mind off it. I’d like to stay if that’s okay.”

“Of course. Please let the rest of the staff know that they can leave at any time.”

When she left, Amoy collapsed into the chair at his desk. He was exhausted; his back and neck felt like they’d been pumped full of acid. His head ached constantly and if he didn’t try to take catnaps every couple of hours he’d develop a migraine. He looked out the window again and wondered if he should have left when he had the chance.

Some of his friends had left on yachts to port in harbors that would keep their departure quiet. He knew many people had taken boats to the nearest island, Molokai. Many were inexperienced seamen and had no doubt been stranded or drowned. It was thirty-two miles of treacherous water. An annual race had developed there. World Class yacht masters came from all over to compete there, knowing the reputation of the waters as some of the most treacherous in this hemisphere.

Of course, the only people with boats were those of means, which meant that only the poor were absolutely stuck on the island. He wondered if it had always worked this way throughout history.

There was commotion outside. He looked down and saw a group of men trying to tear down the barrier that had been built at the entrance of the hospital. At first it was to keep people in and make sure the patients didn’t get out to infect others. But more and more, it was becoming a barrier to keep people out that were looking to raid the hospital’s supplies.

He ran downstairs to find the nurses gathered around the front entrance. Heather was standing with her hands on her hips, staring at the front doors.

“There’s a lot of ‘em this time,” she said.

“Has anyone told them we don’t have anything?”

“They’re starving. I don’t think they’re going to care.”

Amoy ran down the hall to check on the patients. Three days ago there had been over sixty in the ER. Now there were less than twenty. One of the major concerns had been what to do with the bodies. They didn’t want to leave them outside as he wasn’t entirely certain this virus wasn’t airborne, so instead they piled them up on the fifth floor, hoping that the height would contain the smell. It didn’t.

He found Doug, their only security officer, asleep on a gurney.

“Doug, wake up. They’re back.”

He roused himself awake and swung his legs over the gurney. He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes before standing.

“Yeah, so?”

“There’re a lot this time.”

Doug stepped out of the room and went down the hall, Amoy behind him. They came to the front entrance where they all stood around, staring at the doors as if an alien were about to land on earth and they were to be the first contact they would have.

“Fuck me,” Doug said. “How many a ‘em are there?” He turned to Amoy. “I only got six rounds and a Taser.”

Amoy stared at the doors a long time. The furniture they had piled in front of the doors was slowly decreasing as the men outside patiently worked to clear a path.

“I’ll be right back,” Amoy said.

He ran upstairs and to the second floor. He went to a window facing down on the street and looked down.

“We don’t have anything here,” Amoy shouted to the men. “There’s nothing for you here.”

One of the men, a white male with tattoos over his bald head and no shirt on, wiped his brow with the back of his arm. He looked to Amoy and said, “Well that ain’t true now. You got yourself a few honeys in there. They be worth something.”

Amoy felt a chill down his spine. “They’ve stayed here to help the sick at the risk of their own lives. Leave them alone.”

“Don’t worry, we’ll take good care a ‘em. They gonna get lots a lovin’ from the homies.”

Amoy stepped away from the window. He stood there silently; his arms limp by his side. All he wanted to do was sit down, so he did. There was a chair behind the desk and he sat and put his feet up, his arms on his chest. There were at least thirty men out there.

He sat staring at the ceiling a long time and began dozing off. After what seemed like an eternity, he heard yelling and screaming and the sounds of shoes running on linoleum downstairs.

Shots began to be fired.

He counted them. One…two…three…four…then there was silence. He heard a woman’s scream and then the laughter of men. He felt no emotion at all, only a dull ache in the pit of his stomach, but warm tears flowed down his cheeks. He stood up and headed for the stairs.

He walked up three more flights of stairs and went to the end of the hallway on the fifth floor. Another set of stairs led to the roof and he took them.

The sunshine was bright and warm. A breeze was blowing and it was the type of breeze that under normal circumstances he might have noticed. It carried the salty scent of the ocean and cooled his face, which felt hot though he hadn’t been outside all day.

Amoy walked to the edge of the roof and climbed the stone barrier. He looked down to the men that were still outside, and the few that were coming out. He thought they looked like bugs scrambling around and it gave him the adolescent pleasure of feeling bigger and stronger than those around him. He smiled.

And then, he jumped.