“Nurse!”

Kelebile rushed over just in time to catch the man in his arms as he collapsed.

“Where are we going to put him?” he said, staggering a little. “All the beds are full.” There were only three beds in the sick-bay and they were indeed all full.

“The room next to mine is vacant for the winter. I’m going to get the mattress.” Caroline dragged a chair over to where Kelebile was struggling with the slumped patient. “Here. Prop him up on this for now.”

The bleeding from the eyes was of traumatic origin, Caroline told herself as she sprinted down the corridor towards the sleeping quarters. It had to be. It would be. There was no way it could be pathological.

When she returned to the sick-bay carrying the thin cot mattress, she saw two trails of blood emerging from the patient’s nostrils and her heart dropped like a stone.

“Lie him on here. I’m going to examine him.”

“Yes, Doctor.”

Within minutes, Caroline knew that the bleeding was not the result of an accident. She pressed her stethoscope to the man’s chest and listened to laboured crackling noises. His lips were turning blue.

“Please get the other ventilator ready, Nurse. I’m going to intubate him while I still can.”

“Right away, Doctor.”

As Kelebile swung into action, Caroline went through the process of inserting a tube into the patient’s trachea via the mouth.  By the time it was in place, the ventilator was ready to be hooked up to it.  Soon the patient’s chest was rising and falling and the blue tinge had receded from his face.

Caroline met Kelebile’s eyes. She could see her own fear reflected back at her.

“It’s some sort of haemorrhagic fever, isn’t it?” he said.

“I’m afraid so. What happened to the three flu patients I asked you to bring in for examination?”

“Two of them came in of their own accord before I could even start looking for them. I admitted them and put them to bed.” He nodded at the patients who were occupying two of the three beds in the ward. Both were trying hard not to stare at the patient on the mattress. “The other one is coming in at 15h30.”

“Cancel him, please. We need to quarantine the sick bay. And you need to get into a hazmat suit.”

He shook his head. “I can’t. It’s too bulky. I won’t be able to do my job properly. And there’s only one. You should take it.”

Caroline forced a snap into her tone. “Nurse, this is my ward and I’m the doctor in charge. You have your orders. Put that suit on immediately. It’s hanging up in the antechamber of the biohazard unit.”

It was a relief when he stopped arguing and went to fetch it.

She helped him into the suit, pleased that they’d both had recent training in how to use it.

“Can I double-glove with latex rather?” he asked when it came to putting on the clumsy gloves that came with the suit.

Caroline agreed, partly because it was practical and partly to make up for her high-handedness.

When he was fully protected, she left him with the unenviable task of explaining the situation to the two conscious patients in the ward. His bedside manner was better than hers, and besides, there was something she needed to do.

 

**

 

An unpleasant suspicion was forming at the back of Caroline’s mind.

She needed to check on the item she had brought with her from the virology lab in New Zealand. It was unthinkable that it could have been tampered with, but she had to check anyway.

She stopped outside the biohazard unit and let herself into the antechamber where Kelebile had just been. The door to the inner chamber showed no signs of tampering. It was twelve inches thick and locked with electro-magnetism. Precisely one person had the clearance necessary to open it, and that was Caroline herself.

She held her right thumb against the fingerprint scanner and waited for it to turn green. She brought her left eye up to the retinal scanner and waited for that to turn green too. Then she rested her chin in front of the camera and let the facial recognition software to do its thing. There was a humming sound as the electro-magnetism released its grip and she could open the door.

The inner chamber was empty apart from a large white box that looked like a chest-freezer. Which it was in a way, except that the contents were kept cold with frozen carbon dioxide rather than refrigerator coils.

Caroline picked up the metal tongs that hung at the side of the freezer and opened the lid. The carbon dioxide sublimated immediately and clouds of dry ice rose theatrically into the air.  She reached into the freezer with the tongs and pulled out a titanium vial. “Ebola” was written in her own handwriting on a plastic seal that encircled the vial. It was signed and dated by her. The seal was unbroken.

Caroline put it back carefully and pulled out another vial. “SARS” said this one, also in her handwriting. The seal was intact. Caroline released a breath. Just to be thorough, she checked each and every vial in the chest. Their seals were all unbroken.

 

**

 

“Some sort of haemorrhagic fever,” she told the computer screen. “Possibly Ebola. Possibly Legionnaire’s Disease. We would have to do a swab to make sure, but we haven’t had time.”

She wondered if it was just an effect of the transmission or if Director King had gone rather pale. But when she spoke, her voice was rock steady.

“Let me get this straight. First you have a patient with flu symptoms and respiratory arrest and then another one with haemorrhagic fever? I think you need to check on the status of your biohazard chamber, Doctor.”

“Already done. I personally checked every vial. All the seals are unbroken and there is no sign of tampering anywhere.”

“Well, that’s something at least.” Director King drummed her fingers on the desk in front of her.

“Ma’am, I would like to repeat my request for a medical evacuation. I have two gravely ill patients here.”

“Your request is denied, Doctor. Can you conscientiously tell me that either patient is at all likely to survive such an evacuation?”

Caroline was forced to shake her head. “No, but it’s not just that. I’ve been forced to quarantine the medical wing. Thanks to the modular design of the base, it was easy to cut ourselves off. But the Ebola patient is part of the cleaning crew. He has been all over the base in the last few hours alone.”

“When last did you see a weather report, Doctor?” Director King asked.

“A while ago,” Caroline admitted. “It’s been impossible. I haven’t had a moment.”

“The South Pole is surrounded by a severe storm system. We’re calling it Hilda. It should reach you in the next day or so. But it has already made flying impossible. It’s not that we don’t want to get to you – it’s that we can’t.”

Dismay must have shown on Caroline’s face because the older woman relented. “Look, if your viruses are really intact, it’s unlikely that your patient has haemorrhagic fever. It must be something else – something idiopathic. If you send through all your data, we’ll get our best diagnosticians to look at it.”

The screen went blank. Director King was not one for lingering farewells.

“There’s a patient who wants to get in.” Kelebile’s voice in Caroline’s ear made her jump.

“What? Why?”

“She says she’s sick. She says she’ll take her chances with whatever diseases we’ve got in here, but she wants medical treatment now.”

“Well, New York is pretty sure our bleeding patient is not infectious, so let her in.”

A woman Caroline recognised from her morning workouts in the gym came into the sick-bay. She was clutching her face and sobbing.

“What is it? What’s wrong with me?” Her cheeks and hands were covered in tiny, fluid-filled blisters.

Caroline didn’t have to consult the history books to know she was looking at a case of smallpox.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

SPIRE is published by Clockwork Books. If you’ve enjoyed this three-chapter sample, click here to buy the whole book on Kindle. The trade paperback is launching in May 2017.

Click here for chapter 2

Click here for chapter 1