‘Shit, that’s all we need,’ said the captain, all trace of humour disappearing from his face. ‘They’re highly infectious from all accounts, aren’t they?’
‘Actually, no,’ interjected the first officer. ‘Everyone thinks they are, but in reality they’re not as bad as some less exotic diseases. They’re spread through contact with bodily fluids.’
‘Good to know, John. How come you know this?’
‘I went to a seminar on the spread of disease through air travel a couple of months ago. It scared me shitless, but I do remember them saying that about Ebola.’
‘You haven’t been exchanging bodily fluids with chummy, have you, Judy?’ asked the captain, his sense of humour returning.
‘He was sick all over me.’
‘Shit! Have you washed?’
‘Not properly.’
‘Do it now. A complete change of clothes. Put everything you’ve got on into a plastic bag and seal it.’
‘Will do.’
‘Is our doctor looking after him?’
‘No, Carol is. He’s bleeding heavily from his nose and eyes and somewhere down below.’
‘So what’s the doctor doing?’
‘Shitting himself.’
‘Like that, is it? Look, if Carol got soiled in any way, get her to change, too. When you’re both done, cover up chummy with plastic bags and blankets.’
‘He’s running a high temperature,’ said Judy. ‘He’ll cook.’
‘Can’t be helped. Your priority must be to contain all bodily fluids. Understood?’
Judy nodded.
‘Go on, get washed. I’ll tell Heathrow the good news.’
‘ETA?’ asked Judy.
‘Seventy-five minutes.’
Judy left the flight deck and locked herself in the lavatory with a change of uniform and a plastic sack to put her soiled clothes in. When she came out she put on a new apron and a pair of fresh plastic gloves, which she inspected carefully for holes or cuts. Satisfied that they were undamaged, she took a deep breath, put on her smile and opened the curtain. She beamed at Carol, and rejoined her at Barclay’s seat. They spoke in guarded whispers.
‘How is he?’
‘Sleeping or unconscious, I’m not sure which.’
‘Go and change your uniform. Put all your old stuff in a plastic sack and seal it. What have you done with the used tissues?’
Carol looked down at her feet, where she had a plastic disposal sack. ‘In there, but we’re running out of tissues and I think he’s running out of blood. Can’t we stop the bleeding?’
Judy shook her head. ‘Not in the circumstances. We’ll just have to contain it. Okay?’
Carol nodded. She let Judy take over holding the wad of tissues to Barclay’s face, picked up the sack at her feet and went up front. Left with Barclay, Judy watched the tide of red spread up through the tissue to where her fingers hid behind a thin layer of clear plastic. The thought that the Ebola fever virus might be coming with it induced a shiver of panic inside her. Her concern for the passenger was momentarily replaced by the wish that he would just die and stop bleeding. When Barclay moved his head her pulse rate soared over 150. Please God, don’t let him come round and start moving about, she prayed. Barclay’s seat companion showed similar signs of concern. She caught Judy’s eye and each knew what the other was thinking, although the passenger’s concern was for aesthetic reasons — she simply didn’t want to have a sick, blood-covered man rolling about beside her. Judy was concerned for her own and everyone else’s life.
Barclay was not going to recover consciousness; he was far too ill for that. But somewhere inside his head some automatic warning, instilled in him since childhood, said that he needed the toilet. His head moved from side to side and he made an effort to get up from his seat. Judy restrained him as best she could with one hand while the other held the tissues to his face. Barclay became more and more agitated, and Judy more and more alarmed. She looked anxiously for Carol’s return but as yet there was no sign.
The passenger behind Barclay noticed her discomfort and said, ‘Maybe you should fasten his belt?’
It was such an obvious solution that Judy had to smile at her of all people not thinking of it. She tried to fasten Barclay’s seatbelt with one hand but he kept moving restlessly at the wrong moment. The woman in the seat next to him leaned over to help. After all, she had a vested interest in Barclay staying put.
‘Thanks,’ said Judy as she pressed down on Barclay’s shoulder to keep him still. The woman fastened the buckle, then took up the slack with a sharp tug. She looked at the backs of her hands and saw that they were red from blood soaked up by the blanket in Barclay’s lap. Judy looked at her wide-eyed and then recovered her composure. There was no room for the woman to get out without unbuckling Barclay and trying to move him. She would have to stay put. ‘I’ll get you some tissues, madam,’ she said calmly.
Carol returned from her clean-up, and Judy said, ‘Would you get some wet tissues for this lady, Carol, and a bottle of mineral water? Quick as you can.’
Carol returned with the items and a plastic sack. She handed them to the passenger, and Judy said, ‘Please rinse your hands thoroughly, madam, and put everything in the sack.’
‘But malaria’s not infectious, is it?’
‘No, madam, it’s just a precaution.’
‘A precaution?’ repeated the passenger anxiously. Then she understood. ‘Oh, the blood. My God, you mean he might have AIDS?’
‘AIDS? Who’s got AIDS?’ came an angry enquiry from the seats behind. ‘I thought he had malaria.’
‘No one has AIDS, sir. Please calm down. It’s a misunderstanding.’
Barclay chose this moment to abandon his semi-conscious struggle to go to the toilet, and relaxed his bowels. The smell brought rumbles of protest from the nearby passengers and pushed Judy and Carol to their limits of coping.
‘Please, everyone, I know this is all most unpleasant,’ announced Judy, ‘but we’ll be at Heathrow in less than forty minutes. We have a very sick passenger to deal with, so please bear with us and remain calm. There but for the grace of God and all that? Open your air vents and Carol will hand out scented tissues. Hold them to your face.’
Carol looked puzzled, and Judy said, ‘Use the duty-free perfume.’
TWO
‘Ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain speaking. As some of you will already be aware, we have a sick passenger on board and unfortunately for this reason none of us will be disembarking immediately. I know it’s inconvenient, but we have been asked to taxi to a position some distance from the terminal building and await further instructions. I will keep you informed. In the meantime, please be patient and bear with us.’
Judy felt as if a firework had just been lit and she was waiting for the explosion. It came soon enough. A general rumble of discontent was followed by an angry assertion of ‘I thought you said it was malaria’ from the man in the seat behind Barclay. ‘You were lying, weren’t you?’ he accused. ‘Just what the hell is going on? What’s wrong with him?’
‘We do have a very sick passenger, sir. More than that I can’t say right now, but please be patient.’
‘Patient be damned. There’s something going on here and we deserve to be told. Just what are you keeping from us? Tell us what’s wrong with him.’
‘I’m not a doctor, sir-’
‘But he is,’ said the man angrily, gesturing down the aisle with his thumb. ‘What did he say it was?’
‘Look, I’m sorry, I can’t really discuss-’
‘It all makes sense now,’ interrupted the man. ‘He wanted nothing to do with him, did he? He buggered off to
