Jessica walked out of the patient’s room. She rolled off a pair of latex gloves and threw them away. It was Wednesday. Instead of holding up in her lab, she blocked off a day to do patient rounds. It was why she become a physician in the first place. Sometimes, since she had a PH.D after her name, it was easy to forget.

“Doctor Parens?” A nurse had followed her out. “We’ll keep Ms. Clemens under observation for now. We still can’t understand what’s causing the memory lapses. Another thing. The symptoms are unusual. The slight fever, delirium, and slight aggravation hints towards rabies. But..”

“There’s no bite,” Jessica finished for the nurse. She bit down on her lip. While she did study the majority of these diseases back in med school, her speciality was Opthalmology. An eye doctor. She had been called down here to assess the patient’s conjunctivitis — pink eye. “Did Dr. Brody check in yet? I think he’s the attending physician for the TLC.”

The nurse twiddled her fingers. “Though a more thorough diagnosis is underway, we haven’t been given a specific treatment plan. Not ever a preliminary one,” she said. “We sent blood work and fecal samples out. Hopefully they’ll get back to us soon. In the meantime, we can’t do anything except keep the IV and pain going. Get medication going for the hallucinations too.”

Jessica nodded. That’s what she would’ve done as well. Feeling her pager vibrate, she fished it out from her belt clip. “I’ve gotta run. Urgent from F5/3. Do what you can for right now, and when Dr. Brody gets back, he should be able to update. Contact me if the pink eye gets any worse.”

Quickly making her way through the hallway, Jessica stepped around a pair of nurses as a stretcher rolled towards the TLC. It was the fourth newly admit in the past hour. Thanking a patient care specialist for holding the elevator for her, she pressed the button for the fifth floor. Staring at the door, the image’s of Ms. Clemens rolled through her memory bank. When she first came in, the lady was hollering like a crazy as she said something about ‘the dogs coming’. It was one of the more unusual things she had seen. What she couldn’t believe was the inflammation of her eyes. They weren’t just the typical light pink associated with conjunctivitis. They were bloodshot red. Actual red in color.

The elevator pinged as the door slipped open. She was on the move again. When she first arrived at Memorial Hospital housed near the CDC building, she had gotten lost on many occasions. The building was a year old, funded by the government and CDC. It was meant to be a location to serve as a study bank for the scientist in case an outbreak happened. A glorified hospital so to speak. At first, Jessica wasn’t really sure if she wanted to come here or not. The deciding factor was the grant money she received for her own research. Namely, an organic prosthetic eye for those who had lost one. Though progress slowly grew, she was far from anything conducive. She was still in the infant stages of clinical trials.

Opening the door to the clinic, she was greeted to the sight of two hospital security guards. They saw her walk in and moved towards her. “Dr. Parens?”

She felt a lump in her throat. “Yes?”

“A patient was just admitted here,” said one of the men. It was whispered so only the officers and herself could hear. “The room the man is sitting in has been cordoned off.”

Jessica blinked once. Her mind mulled over the words she had just heard. She blinked again. “May I ask why?”

The security officer exhaled as he gestured towards the back room. “It’d be easier if you saw for yourself.”

---

Half an hour later, Jessica was wearing a gown, gloves, hair hat, googles, and a mask. She just emerged into the patent room as two more security officers stood next to the man. He was fairly tall with mangy, brown hair. He wore tan shorts and a t-shirt — typical attire given the Georgian heat. She would’ve considered him entirely normal if blood hadn’t been trickling down his face.

“David?” she said as she stepped closer and took a seat on the swivel chair. She said his name again. He didn’t respond. “I’m Dr. Parens. Can you tell me what happened?”

David looked up as Jessica saw the scoop of the bleeding. He needed ER not an eye appointment. Sweat rolled down his forehead. “I gotta damn fever doc,” he said in slurred speech. “I’m sweating too. Can’t see a damn thing. Can you turn on the AC? I can’t see a damn thing.”

“Sure, we can get some cool air flowing in here. I’m going to step outside and see what I can do. Call building staff to see if they can’t cool this place down.”

“Appreciate it doc.”

Jessica got up from her seat as she stepped out of the room and stripped off and disposed the isolation gear. Washing her hands thoroughly, she walked towards the nurse’s station and picked up the phone and pressed a speed dialed number. “ER? This is Dr. Parens from F5/3. I have a patient who needs to be transferred to your location. Fever, hemorrhaging through the eyes, and copious amounts of sweating.”

“We’re all full,” said the nurse. Jessica could hear shouting on the other end. Even with the ER being busy, it was a new sound to her altogether. “Mr. Bowman will be sent to TLC as overflow. We’ve just notified them. We’ve been getting similar symptoms all morning. There’s some talk about the flu.”

“I don’t think it’s the flu,” Jessica said as she looked back to where David Bowman was currently restrained. “Anyway, lets get Mr. Bowman moved. Oh, full isolation protocol.”

“We’ve been doing that all morning Doctor. Hopefully this isn’t contagious.”

Jessica stifled a snort. She didn’t know if it was contagious or not, but she didn’t plan on finding out by getting sick. A feeling of dread trickled down her spine. She didn’t like any of this one bit.

Under the powerful lens of a microscope, pathogens came wiggling to life and their deadly structures became exposed to the naked eye. It was in labs all around the world that the most deadly diseases known to man had been eradicated, and thus preserved for further research if they should ever resurface. Working with these deadly viruses and bacteria day in and day out was the main responsibility of doctor Claire Woxell. In just fifteen years she had managed to make quite a name for herself, publishing papers, writing articles and earning a coveted position at the new CDC research facility and hospital in Georgia. While moving down south from the hustle and bustle of Chicago had been far from ideal, Claire was willing to do what was necessary in order to further advance her career as an infectious disease specialist.

“It's your lunch break, you know,” said doctor Delano, a distinguished man with a brilliant mind for medicine. “You ought to take it every now and then. The bugs will wait.”

Claire had to disagree with her superior, a slight frown crossing her pale features after she looked away from her microscope. Doctor Delano wasn't the type to listen to her, or even take her claims about anything seriously, and refusing to take her lunch break at the proper time was just a small way to rebel. It had been at least six months since the redhead had attempted to impress the other man with her work ethic, now sure that he didn't care for her just because she was a woman. She was there to do a job, and she did it well regardless of what he thought of her.

“I'm fine,” Claire insisted lightly, blanking the cross expression from her face in order to replace it with a polite smile. “Enjoy your lunch, doctor.”

Now she was alone, the lab once more silent. Claire did her best work when she was by herself, never one to go out of her way to interact with others, and to call her intense would be putting it mildly. The green-eyed woman often thought that was how it should be—in order to get ahead, she needed to be taken seriously, and earn the respect of those around her. Unfortunately, her philosophy didn't afford for many friends, and she had fallen out of contact with most of the people back in Chicago. However, that was a natural part of life, and Claire reasoned that there were other things to focus on.

Looking through the eyepiece of her microscope once more, Claire adjusted the objectives, taking a closer look at the cells of a rat that had been exposed to the H2N1 virus. Beside her delicate hand was a pad of paper, and poised between her fingers was a dull pencil, scratching away at the paper as she took note of the structures and looked for possible signs of mutation in the other cells. Claire leaned back in her chair, prepared to change slides when she was startled by the sound of the laboratory door banging open. She turned to look over her shoulder, eyebrow raised as she was met with the sight of a frazzled looking nurse.

“Can I help you?” she asked neutrally, not alarmed by the woman's state. It was common for hospital staff to be at their wits end this time of year when the ER was full of the flu, or backed up with those who had simply lose their health insurance.

The nurse nodded, her a few blond hairs straying from her disheveled pony tail. “I'm looking for doctor Delano. There's a patient he needs to see.”

The redhead stored the previous slide before looking back to the woman. “Doctor Delano just left for lunch. Who is the patient?”

That seemed to relieve the nurses worries, “they just came in. Doctor Parens--”

“Is it that pink eye woman?” Claire asked, ready to take back her offer. “I don't get out of bed for conjunctivitis.”

Shaking her head, the nurse now seemed frustrated. “No, it's a man. We don't know what he has. It's a mess upstairs, the phones are so backed up that it was faster to come down here myself and get one of you. He's bleeding from the eyes, doctor. Please. Follow me.”

Claire knew when to stow her attitude, and she quickly rose from her seat after grabbing her note pad from the table. “Anything else?” she asked, falling into step beside the nurse. They walked quickly back to the elevator as the blond woman explained the high fever and the sweating that wouldn't stop. The hemorrhaging was concerning, but it wasn't the first thing on her mind. There had been sporadic talk of a new virus over the course of the last year, something that had originated in Africa, a pathogen that she had specifically called attention to only to be ignored. If this was that, now on American soil, then this was only the beginning.

After being shown to the quarantine area five levels up in the building and donning a hazmat suit for her own protection, Claire entered the area to speak with David Bowman, the possible patient zero. “David, I'm doctor Woxell. I'm going to examine you, don't be afraid.” Her voice was clinical, lacking much sympathy as she did her job. Bedside manner wasn't something that she had ever excelled in, hence the reason Claire spent much of her time in a lab.

“Have you traveled out of the country within the last six months?” she asked, shining a light into the man's eyes and checking for pupil dilation after wiping away the constant and slow seep of blood.

David nodded, “Ghana. On a goodwill mission with my church.”

Claire checked his pulse and asked the man a few more questions, alarmed by what she was hearing. It sounded eerily similar to the report that had been dismissed. If this was something to worry about, if officials at the CDC had ignored the possibility of a new, deadly virus, there would be hell to pay in the court of public opinion.

“How did you get here today, David? Did someone drive you?” she asked, flinching slightly as the man coughed from deep in his chest, the goggles protecting her eyes were left speckled with a bloody sputum. That wasn't promising either.

“My wife,” he answered after the coughing fit.

Claire nodded and set her hand on the man's shoulder, gently coaxing him to lie back in the bed. “We'll get this figured out. Sit tight.”

One round of disinfectant later, Claire shed her suit and looked over her notes before snagging another nurse walking by. “I need blood on that man if it hasn't already been ordered. I want his samples sent to me downstairs, understood? No one is to enter that room without the proper protocols. Find his wife and isolate her as well, along with anyone who has come into contact him with him since he arrived.” The nurse nodded. “And where is Doctor Parens?”

The nurse had pointed her in the right direction, and Claire approached the brunette, a serious look on her face. “Parens?” she asked, wanting to be sure before holding out her hand. “I'm doctor Woxell with infectious diseases. Your case with patient Bowman just became our case. I think it's time you and I go down to Emergency and try to get ahead of this thing.”