“Why? I thought that everyone in The Collective trusts each other.”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. I’d say that at this stage the threat of the upcoming end hangs in the air and causes atypical behaviour… Andrew has decided to include this safety precaution as well, just in case.”
I understood. Desperation can make people do things they wouldn’t think themselves capable of.
“So… do you have it?” Mark asked, slightly uncertain, as if he wasn’t supposed to know.
“I do,” I replied and surprised us both. Him, because he probably wasn’t expecting me to say that. And myself, because a hazy memory finally clicked with what Mark told me. A few days ago I’d received two letters by express delivery. I had to pick them up personally and confirm with a signature. Each of them consisted of an A4 piece of paper with the Association address and details at the top, and two numbers in the middle. There was no explanation of their significance, why they are important, or that I should keep them.
Each letter must have been sent by a different person, I realised, and together they form the code to this briefcase.
“Great,” Mark replied to my short answer and pulled a small bag out of his work case.
He opened it and showed me an anti plague vaccine prototype. It mainly reminded me of an EpiPen injection we kept at the station first aid kit in case somebody suffered an anaphylactic shock. It was incredibly easy to use and Mark’s vaccine looked essentially the same.
“You see how thin the needle is?” he removed the cover of a part of the injection while pointing out that I wouldn’t be able to do that with my vaccines.
He was right, the needle was the size of a single strand of hair, and I hoped that Dad and Ruby won’t feel anything when I inject them. I let him show me how to use the injection several times, although it was pretty straightforward.
“When should I do it?”
“Today if possible,” Mark said. “It’ll take a little over a week for the vaccine to be effective.”
“Isn’t it a bit risky to give them the vaccine so close to the plague release?” I managed to ask, my throat tight.
“The doctor assured me it’s not,” he shook his head. “Frank and Ruby may experience a fever or slight reddening in the place of the injection, but that’s normal.”
I nodded, and then it occurred to me: “What about the plague symptoms?” So I know what’s in store for me.
He hesitated. “The first symptoms appear about three days after the infection, headaches, a fever, sneezing and coughing. A week later there’ll be shortness of breath, chest pain, phlegm. Eventually there’ll be coughing up blood.”
“When do you start being infectious?”
They must have discussed this a thousand times in The Collective, because he was answering my questions promptly, as if he was reading from a medical book.
“Around twenty four hours after being infected.”
I stared at him. “So soon?”
He took a deep breath. “It’s the most aggressive form of pneumonic plague in the world. And the most resistant.”
People would unknowingly spread the disease even before they realised they were ill… It was the same with many other illnesses, I didn’t know why it’d affected me so much in this particular case. Somehow it seemed unfair.
“And… death?”
He swallowed. Was he also drowning in visions of what it will be like for us when it’s our turn? Was he as scared as I was?
“Two to three weeks depending on the strength of the individual. Children and older people may succumb sooner.”
I closed my eyes. At least Ruby and Dad will get the vaccine. The idea of their death–and especially this kind of death–was just unbearable.
But what about all the others? Grannies and grandads, their children and grandchildren? Innocent, helpless, coughing and suffocating, in pain…
I had to stop thinking about it, or I wouldn’t be able to walk out of here without help. Lately I’d been a bundle of nerves, about to collapse any moment. It wouldn’t get any better. My visions of the future weren’t exactly rosy…
I had no idea how I made it through the rest of the day without those thoughts driving me crazy. But I went home, pretended to be in a good mood and cooked dinner while Ruby gave Grampa instructions playing doctors and patients. Her choice of topic seemed quite ironic, since I was about to play doctor myself.
I considered who to inject first. I didn’t know how they were going to react, if the needle was going to wake them up or not. What if my daughter started crying? I didn’t want Dad wandering around in case Ruby wakes up, so I chose him first.
I entered his bedroom with a prepared excuse in case he was still up, but I didn’t need it. He was breathing slowly and looked so tranquil and peaceful that I couldn’t resist just watching him for a while.
After a few minutes he stirred–a bad dream?–and turned around, one of his legs peeking from under the duvet. He wore long pyjama bottoms, but that didn’t matter. I could inject him through clothes too.
I took a deep breath and knelt by the bed. Before panic could get the better of me, I took off the safety cover, placed the injection to his leg and pushed the piston. I managed to remove my hand before he tried to swat it away.
I flinched away quickly and laid down on the floor. What if he opened his eyes and saw me? I quickly shuffled under the bed, just in case. Lucky for me there was enough space!
I was clutching the used injection in my hand, shaking. I must have laid there at least twenty minutes before I gathered up the courage to go to Ruby. I looked back at Dad from the door. His leg was back
