Forward
We're told there's no risk of it happening, that we know how to stop it. Yet, we're incapable of stopping it in West Africa, and expect to see tens of thousands of new cases there per week by next month. If there's one thing that precedes any calamity, it's hubris. When the Titanic set sail, it was proclaimed to be unsinkable. Subprime mortgages and their derivative investments were thought to be unstoppable.
I sincerely hope that the administration is correct when they tell us they know how to stop it and that it will not spread beyond its current confines in Dallas, TX; Madrid, Spain; and West Africa.
On the other hand, I have a morbid fascination for this outbreak, and cannot help but wonder how things will pan out if the administration is wrong. How could that play out? What follows is fiction. Let's hope that it stays that way.
October 20, 2014, 6:00 am
For five days, the media had been feasting on the fact that a second of Thomas Duncan's nurses had become infected with Ebola. There were continued scares around the world of new cases popping up in the most unlikely of places, including the small island nation of Mauritius. The CDC was beating their standard drum, with Thomas Frieden proclaiming, "contact tracing has worked - it's been 5 days and the Dallas Outbreak has no new patients. There have been no patients in Cleveland, even though the second patient traveled there. We've got this under control."
Patricia Klein was looking forward to sleeping in on this morning; she had been working double shifts as a nurse because her daughter had just started her career at Texas A&M, and college textbooks are ridiculously expensive. She could not believe that one book could cost $150. She was down to a few hundred dollars before her last credit card was paid off, too. The Dave Ramsey "financial peace" was so close, she could taste it, but her daughter's college plans had thrown a wrench into the works.
Patricia's boyfriend, Steve, was not suffering from being overworked, and he woke up on his usual schedule. It was 6:00 am that morning, and he had to be to work by 8:00. As a personal trainer at an upscale gym, his clients would not tolerate anything less than pristine punctuality. He cooked his usual breakfast: one egg, scrambled, with two slices of bacon, and one slice of toast for some carbohydrates. After breakfast, he went to the restroom to shave and get a shower. It was 6:45 now; he did the math: a quick shower, throw some clothes on, and he would make it to work by 7:45, even if traffic was heavy. Monday was shaping up to be pretty good.
In the shower, Steve felt a bit light-headed - like there was a bit of a throbbing behind his left eye. He thought to himself that he'd need to take some aspirin on his way out the door. As he finished up, he let a small sneeze escape his nose.
He threw on a pair of gym shorts and the official T-Shirt of the gym where he worked, Lone Star X-Fit. As he came out of the master bath, he saw Patty turning over in bed. He crawled across his side and gave her a quick kiss on the forehead, before grabbing his keys and jogging through the house to the garage. He didn't notice that her forehead was sweaty and feverish.
It was now 7:20, and he was about halfway to work when the throbbing behind his left eye returned. "Damn!" he thought to himself, "I forgot to take some aspirin before I left. Oh well, it's still early. I've got plenty of time to stop off at Walgreens for some." He pulled into the parking lot, where he parked the car and proceeded in to pick up some aspirin. He noticed a newspaper by the door with the hyperbolic headline, "WHAT THIS DOCTOR SAYS ABOUT EBOLA WILL TERRIFY YOU." "Give it a rest," he thought to himself, "Patty worked on Duncan, and she's fine. It's under control." He jogged to the back wall of the store, quickly locating the analgesics, and grabbed a bottle of Bayer. When he got back to the counter, he grabbed a bottle of water so he'd have something to wash it down.
While he was waiting in line - now it was 7:25 - he felt his noze itch and realized he needed to sneeze. Steve started to put the bottle down so he could sneeze into his hand, but it was too late; his nose exploded, spewing a stream of saliva into a cloud in front of him. "I'm so sorry," he muttered to the small, elderly woman in front of him, who was aghast at his lack of consideration, "It's my allergies. They always get me this time of year. I used to take Sudafed, but now you need a prescription because of those damned meth cookers. Sorry." He wiped his nose with the back of his right hand. She turned to the cashier and slowly pulled four singles out of her purse, which she placed on the counter, one at a time. She then pulled a coin purse out of her purse, announcing that she was pretty sure she had exact change.
Steve checked his phone for the time. It was now 7:30. The elderly woman was still pulling nickels out of her coin purse, "sixty, sixty-five, seventy. Wait - I think I've got three pennies somewhere in here. Oh, yes. Sixty-six. Sixty-seven. And one more makes Sixty-Eight cents." The cashier reminded her to have a nice day. She grabbed her bags, and tied them to her walker. As Steve was starting to tap his feet, she began pushing her walker towards the door, muttering to herself about how disrespectful today's youth were.
Steve turned to the cashier, who had already scanned the aspirin and was presently scanning the bottle of water. "Hi. That'll be $5.32.". Steve reached into his right back pocket and pulled out his wallet. He quickly flipped it open and retrieved the card with his left hand, and held the card out for the cashier. She looked at him with a combination of pity and aggravation, and pointed to the Ingenico card reader directly in front of him. "Oh, sorry." Steve muttered, and swiped his card. He put the card back in his wallet, and his wallet in his pants. By this time, the receipt had been printed, and the cashier held it out for him. He grabbed it with his right hand, sliding his finger along hers for a brief moment. He crumpled the receipt and threw it into the garbage can by the door as he walked outside into the unseasonably hot Dallas morning.
While opening his car door, Steve had to sneeze again. He casually turned his head to the side as he did so. He didn't notice the car next to him had the windows down, or that there was a baby in the car seat. He sat down and pulled his new bottle of aspirin out of the bag. It was now 7:35, and he had to get moving if he wanted to get to work and get warmed up ahead of his clients. He pulled the cotton balls out of the bottle with his left hand and threw them out of his window. He reached inside the bottle, fished out two pills, and placed them on his tongue. The water's top came off without any difficulty, and Steve took a gulp to wash down the aspirin.
A few minutes later, Steve pulled in to the parking lot at Lone Star X-Fit, and was relieved to see that it was only 7:50. His stop at Walgreens hadn't cost him as much time as he thought. He parked on the opposite side of the lot, exited his car, and jogged over to the door. He pulled it open with his left hand, and strolled inside. The receptionist, Melissa, smiled when she saw him come in.
"Hey, Steve! You ready for your first appointment? I know how you like Mr. Billings!" This was a bit of an inside joke. Steve had complained to Melissa many times about how John Billings wasn't taking his fitness regiment very seriously. But recently, John had a doctor visit which had given him a renewed focus. Apparently, his cholesterol was atrociously high, and his doctor had given him the speech about how he needs to correct his eating habits and exercise, or he would have a heart attack within the next three years.
Steve chuckled, "ah - he's okay these days. I'm gonna hit the treadmill." He walked over to the third treadmill from the reception desk, and turned the machine on. He selected a mild pace - he just wanted to warm up - and began jogging.
Five minutes later, and Steve had produced a little sweat just in time for Mr. Billings to arrive. As he walked in, Steve hit the "STOP" button on the treadmill and let it slowly push him off the back of the machine. He jogged over to John, wiping his brow with his right hand.
"Hey, John!" He extended his right hand, which John accepted in a firm grasp. "I figured today we'd work on the arms and back, then tomorrow we'll focus on the legs, take Wednesday off, then Thursday it'll be crunch day, and we'll round out Friday with some cross-training, just kinda hit everything at once. Sound good?"
"Yeah, actually it does. Let's get to it."
Steve led John over to the barbells and handed him a 20 lb bell. "Okay, let's get a few curls in. Nothing too heavy." John actually felt like the 20 lb was pushing his abilities, but didn't want to seem weak, so he grabbed it and started lifting. By the eighth repetition, he was struggling. Steve gave him a quick slap on the back, "C'mon, John! You got this. It's no problem for you!" Steve pushed through and let the barbell drop. He was panting now. "John - you wanna have that heart attack your doctor's always warning you about? Come on!" Steve put his hand under John's and gave a light push to encourage Mr. Billings to pick up the barbell on his own. John's face grimaced, and he slowly bent his arm, swinging the barbell up to his shoulder. "NINE!" Steve proclaimed as John let the weight fall again. "Just one more, and we can move on to bench presses. You got this! Just one more!" As John began to lift the weight again, he held his breath. "Breathe, John." John exhaled and took another deep breath. He now had the barbell about halfway up, and Steve was just about to offer a word of encouragement when he heard his phone ring.
"Come on, John! Pull! You got this!" ...ring... "You can do it!" ...ring... "TEN!" John let the weight drop. "Excuse me for a minute."
When Steve got to his phone, he saw that the call was from Patty. He answered it, "Hey babe, I'm with a client."
"Steve, I don't feel so good. Can you pick up some soup or something at lunch?"
"Sure thing, babe. Love you."
Steve hung up the phone and put it back down. He turned to go back to work, but John had a disturbed expression on his face.
"You okay, Steve?"
"Yeah. Why?"
"Well, your nose is bleeding, and you're pale as a ghost..."
Steve put his hand to his nose and pulled it away. He saw the blood on his fingers, and realized that he actually didn't feel okay. The throbbing behind his left eye had returned with a vengeance. "You know, actually, I think I need to get some rest." He stood up to walk over to the bench in the lobby. Melissa looked over at him, and their eyes locked. A moment later, he heard John calling his name as the world turned sideways and everything he could see collapsed into a dark tunnel around him.
PART 2
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