Pandemic

30

THURSDAY, 5:48 A.M.

From the backseat of the Toyota, both Jack and Laurie were appalled by the size of the crowd gathered in front of the OCME, and the line of TV trucks parked along the curb with their antennae extended. Jack tried to get the driver to go straight and stay on 30th Street so that he and Laurie could be dropped off at the receiving bay instead of the front door, but it was too late. The man had not understood the command and was already in the middle of the turn onto First Avenue.

With no room to stop in front of their destination because of the TV vehicles and the milling people, the driver was forced to pull ahead. As they passed the aged OCME building, it was clear to both Jack and Laurie that the throng were all journalists, a situation both had witnessed before, but not with quite so many people.

“My God,” Jack commented as they passed. “What a horde. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“I’m not surprised,” Laurie said. “The Pandemic Influenza Preparedness and Response Plan calls for an immediate information release to the Health Alert Network, and that’s at least fifteen thousand subscribers. I’m telling you, as soon as the plan was initiated, all government agencies of the city, state, and federal government as well as most media outlets would have learned of it. I know because part of my indoctrination in becoming chief was to get up to speed by practically memorizing the OCME Pandemic Influenza Surge Plan, which is also automatically activated. It’s our responsibility to coordinate with all the involved agencies. I’ve participated in several exercises and drills already in the short time I’ve been chief.”

“All city agencies?” Jack asked. He swung around to keep the mob in view. He was wondering how difficult it was going to be to push through them to get to the OCME’s front door. The only positive aspect was that at least the rain had temporarily stopped.

“All the important agencies from an emergency-management point of view,” Laurie said. “Department of Health, Greater New York Hospital Association, fire department with EMS, police department, and of course Emergency Management. There’s been so much coordination and so much planning and so much worry. It’s why I didn’t want to give anyone a heads-up when you were worried about the first subway death. A heads-up alone could have caused what we’re seeing now. The whole system was like a tightly wound-up spring.”

As soon as he could, the Uber driver pulled over to the curb, which was practically in front of the NYU Langone Medical Center. Jack and Laurie piled out to hurry south. Just beyond the entrance to the medical center’s parking garage, they started to encounter the reporters, who were acting like a swarm of bees. The two medical examiners managed to get about halfway to the OCME front door before someone recognized Laurie. From the press briefings that she’d occasionally held in response to particularly newsworthy cases, Laurie was gradually becoming a known commodity.

“Dr. Montgomery,” one of the reporters called out. “Can we have a statement about the pandemic?”

News of the presence of the chief medical examiner spread through the crowd like wildfire. Suddenly both Jack and Laurie were surrounded by pushy reporters, many with microphones or smartphones, all competing with one another to get theirs as close as possible to Laurie’s face. Jack literally had to push several electronic devices out of the way. It was amazing how obnoxious reporters could be when competing for a scoop, almost as bad as paparazzi.

“I’m sorry, but I have no comment,” Laurie called out over the crowd. “I will be briefed as soon as I get into my office and will schedule a news conference about the OCME’s role in the current situation. It will be held within the hour in the auditorium at the OCME building, 421 First Avenue, not here at 520. Now please let us pass!”

Jack began acting as a point man to get Laurie through the crowd, at times yelling at insistent, pushy reporters with their microphones or cameras to give way. The going was slow.

“Please!” Laurie shouted from behind Jack. “Let us through! As I said, you’ll have my statement within the hour. Before then, you people should be at Emergency Management out in Brooklyn or at the Department of Health, because they are calling the shots, most likely through the Department of Health’s Incident Command System.”

After Laurie’s short but informative impromptu speech, the reporters opened up a path for her. But then someone shouted out to ask whether Jack was Dr. Jack Stapleton. Surprised by hearing his name, Jack stopped and tried to see who had asked.

“Over here!” someone shouted.

Jack saw a man wearing a New York Yankees baseball hat and waving his hand, about three rows back. “Are you Jack Stapleton?” he repeated. He didn’t have to shout as loudly on this occasion, as the other journalists in the immediate area all fell silent.

“Yes, I am Jack Stapleton. Why do you ask?”

The pause in the crowd’s murmuring vanished as everyone recommenced talking at once. Laurie was suddenly ignored as people pressed in on Jack, thrusting their electronic devices into his face. Now there was even more frenzy than before, as reporters battled with one another to get close. The questions came fast and furious, such as whether he had autopsied more than two victims, whether there was a specific diagnosis of this rapidly fatal subway disease, what exactly were the symptoms, was it a strain of influenza, how did it spread, was there any cure, should people leave New York if they could, and how did being on the subway cause it?

Jack stiffened. Suddenly it occurred to him that this whole hysteria and panic was possibly related to the two subway deaths, meaning that Laurie’s fear of them stimulating a false alarm had come to pass. How or why, Jack had no idea.

In a mild panic himself, he turned and looked for Laurie. Now that she was being relatively ignored, she had skirted Jack and had made considerable forward progress. She was nearing the front entrance of 520, silhouetted against the building’s blue-glazed brick façade.

Redirecting his attention to a woman reporter in front of him, Jack asked, “Why are people talking about the subway?” He had to shout to be heard.

“You don’t know?” the reporter asked.

“Oh, come on, Dr. Stapleton,” another reporter yelled. “Don’t play dumb with us.”

“Haven’t you seen the Daily News?” the woman reporter questioned.

“I haven’t,” Jack admitted. Suddenly, one of the reporters shoved a copy of the tabloid into Jack’s face. Its full-page headline read: SUBWAY PANDEMIC. It was surcharged over an image of an NYC subway car head-on. In slightly smaller print was: KILLS INDISCRIMINATELY. In even smaller print along the bottom was: A wildly contagious pandemic as bad as the 1918 flu explodes in NYC subways on the R and D lines. Jack snatched the paper and folded back the front page to read the first line of the obviously lurid article: Anonymous, highly qualified, inside source from the Office of the Chief Medical Examiner confirms that senior NYC medical examiner Dr. Jack Stapleton has declared the city is facing a remarkably lethal pandemic of an as-yet-unknown virus that kills within an hour of first symptoms and will be possibly worse than the 1918 pandemic flu epidemic that killed 100 million people.

Thunderstruck, Jack crunched up the paper in his fist and held it in the air. He yelled out for everyone to hear: “Listen up! This article is untrue. I have not made such a declaration. There is no subway pandemic. Not yet!”

“What the hell does ‘not yet’ mean?” one of the reporters yelled disdainfully.

“Coverup,” another yelled. “Come on, come clean!”

“How long will the subways be shut down?” another shouted.

“What about the schools?” another reporter yelled. “When will they reopen?”

“Listen!” Jack shouted in response to the rush of questions. “Dr. Montgomery already said she will be giving a news briefing at 421 First Avenue within the hour. I’m sure she’ll address all these issues then and explain that this is most likely one big, unfortunate mistake.”

From the response his outburst evoked, Jack could tell the crowd was in no mood to believe him or even listen. There was a sense of true panic in the air that was almost palpable. He was aware it was common knowledge among journalists and other informed people that health scientists all over the world had been fearing the appearance of a new, deadly global pandemic. It wasn’t whether there would be such an outbreak but rather when, and there was a profusion of bad viral actors on the horizon capable of wreaking havoc, from bird flu to Ebola, or even something entirely new, like the World Health Organization’s mysteriously labeled Disease X. In a very real sense, Jack knew that although everyone present had been panicked by the erroneous Daily News headline, probably no one had been surprised.

Clutching the newspaper he’d confiscated, Jack gave up trying to convince a crowd that had no intention of listening to him. He even felt a twinge of fear being at their mercy, so he recommenced heading for the OCME’s front door. He was now determined and wasn’t going to be denied. People plied him with questions, which he ignored. He even literally shoved a few people aside who tried to block his way, insistently thrusting microphones in his face and yelling out questions. When he got to the front door, he found it locked. Luckily, a few frantic knocks on the glass brought into view a member of the building’s night security force, a reassuringly large uniformed African American man. He unlocked the door for Jack, and with commendable proficiency made sure none of the reporters came in with him.

Jack thanked the security person. For a few moments before the man had appeared, Jack feared he might be forced to turn around and fight the crowd again to get around to the receiving dock.

Once inside the building’s reception area, which at this time of the morning was missing Marlene, the ageless receptionist, Jack sat on the faux-leather couch to quickly scan the Daily News article. As he assumed, it was an over-the-top example of yellow journalism. For sheer tabloid-style sensationalism, it even mentioned that he had claimed the subway pandemic would not only rival the 1918 Spanish flu but probably would be as bad as the Black Death that ravished Europe in the fourteenth century. To Jack’s utter annoyance, he was quoted multiple times as the source of all the misinformation in the article, even the outlandish comparisons.

As Jack’s anger mounted, he tried to imagine who was the supposed “anonymous, highly qualified inside source.” It surely couldn’t have been one of the other medical examiners. Although there were a couple lackluster M.D.s on the staff whose knowledge and judgment Jack openly questioned, he didn’t think any of them were remotely capable of carrying off such travesty. He had the same thought concerning the medical-legal investigators. The consequences and turmoil of setting off the city’s Pandemic Influenza Preparedness and Response Plan were much too serious. Jack imagined the city was probably almost in a lockdown mode. What he found particularly mystifying was the description of the anonymous source as an experienced employee of the OCME.

“Carlos!” Jack abruptly sputtered. Coming to him like a bolt out of the blue was the strong suspicion it had been Carlos who’d been the source for the article, despite Carlos hardly being a qualified or experienced employee of the OCME. With a burst of anger and indignation, Jack couldn’t even remember the man’s last name. But the more he thought about it, the more convinced he was and the more he regretted his decision to help Vinnie get the man to quit. Jack hadn’t had a good feeling about the new hire from the start and hadn’t been surprised when Vinnie described him as a jerk with zero initiative.

“Holy crap!” Jack yelled as he loudly swatted the paper and crumpled it in frustration. Then he guiltily looked around to see whom he might have offended with his outburst. Luckily, at that time in the morning no one else was in the room. Pulling out his mobile phone, he placed a call to Vinnie. At 6:25 A.M., he should have been on his way in to work. It took longer than usual for the call to go through, making him think the circuits were overloaded.

“Good morning, Doc,” Vinnie said.

“Have you seen the Daily News?”

“Yeah, I’ve seen it,” Vinnie said. “And I’m experiencing it.”

“What do you mean?” Jack asked.

“No public transportation,” Vinnie said. “I’m having to drive in to work. Is it all right to park at 421?”

“I suppose,” Jack said. “But leave your keys in the car. It might have to be moved if they go ahead and erect the autopsy tents.”

“Has there already been a flood of cases?” Vinnie asked. “I’ll be there in twenty minutes, tops. There’s zero traffic.”

“There’s been no cases as far as I know,” Jack said. “I’m sure this whole thing is a huge mistake. There might be a subway pandemic in the near future, but there certainly isn’t one right now to justify what’s happening. My question to you is whether you think your charge, Carlos, could have been the source for the Daily News article.”

“I hadn’t thought about it,” Vinnie said. “But yeah, he could have sold it. I certainly wouldn’t put it past him. The guy is a dick, like I said.”

“Did you see or talk to him after he walked out of the autopsy?”

“I didn’t. Nor did I expect to. Nor do I think he is going to show up today.”

“Okay,” Jack said. “I’ll see you soon.”

Jack had the hunch that heads were going to roll because of the seriousness of the situation. He also had the nagging worry that some might think he was the source of the misinformation, as wound up as he’d been about the two subway deaths. With that thought in mind, it might be important to pin down the true source.

After uncrumpling the paper, Jack went back and read the Daily News article more carefully, in case there might have been subtle hints or suggestions of who the source was. But there weren’t. What he realized with a more careful reading was how clever the article was in terms of scaring the bejesus out of the reader. It actually accurately described the clinical course of the two subway deaths and the autopsy findings. The article went on to say that the OCME had been contacted to confirm the details. Jack wondered who the reporter had spoken with, as it certainly wasn’t him. He shuddered. Inwardly, he knew there was going to be hell to pay for this debacle.