The Sarrans Box Set

Chapter 3-1

Chapter 3

“The character of every act depends upon the

circumstances in which it is done.”

—Oliver Wendell Holmes, Jr.

Sarran Calendar: 9435 Barren Trion, Rising 104-105

Earth July 14–15th

For a Friday night Manhattan General’s ER bays were quiet. Wednesday and Thursday saw emergency service vehicles ferrying the most critical Plague patients in the tri-state region to this hospital. All other patients had been assigned to different facilities. Hospital personnel were instructed by the government to keep this group of Plague patients alive at all costs.

Antidotes and vaccinations were overseen by a pair of representatives from CDC: Drs. Bane and Flagen who had arrived from Washington twelve tines ago. Dr. Mark Stern, Manhattan General’s Chief of staff, grudgingly admitted that Bane and Flagen knew their stuff, despite that fact they were both were supercilious, egotistical sons of bitches. At thirty-six, Stern was the youngest Chief of Staff in the medical center’s history. His specialty was infectious disease until he came in from the field to take the job at Manhattan General. He wore gold wire-framed glasses and had a pocket protector with several pens in his lab coat. Blond streaked hair, slicked back, body long and lean, he resembled a California surfer gone geek. His smile was an odd sort of a half smirk. His voice barked authority. The bark combined with his sarcastic bent made the med students scatter and the residents shudder. No one on staff wanted to be the subject of Mark’s rapier wit. If a patient went south because of staff neglect, the innocent were known to draw straws to decide who faced him, the guilty just quietly submitted their letters of resignation. Errors were barely tolerated, but were considered correctable “learning experiences.” Neglect invoked the Wrath of God and every staffer at MGMC knew exactly who God was. The CDC Doctors were exempt only because their arrival coincided with the worst crisis the hospital had ever faced. Mark watched Bane for about two hours before he grudgingly conceded that he might know what he was doing. After that, there were patients to tend.

Drs. Bane and Flagen came armed with two hundred and sixty-two vials of vaccine and antidote, which they immediately administered to patients. Bane told Stern that this group and ten others were part of a small clinical trial, administering only to the worst cases, those who had no other hope of recovery. Mark Stern did not believe in using human beings as guinea pigs, but these circumstances were different enough from the clinical norm that experimentation or prayer were the only two options. Mark had no faith in prayer. These patients had no chance but the test drugs. He had reluctantly agreed to the trial. Not that his acquiescence meant s**t. Bane and Flagen had the authority from Washington to do what they damn well pleased.

He detested bureaucrats. It did not please Mark that he was once again answering to Homeland Security. What he found even more unnerving was his reaction to Bane. It started after they had shared a few cups of coffee. If it had been whiskey, he would have sworn Bane slipped him rohypnol and had his way with him. If he had, it wasn’t rape, Mark’s c**k twitched every time he looked the CDC goon in the face. And if that didn’t please Mark Stern the doctor, it pleased Mark Stern the alpha male even less. He knew he was bisexual. The gender of his lovers was completely immaterial to Mark. But Mark was commitment phobic and, from experience, had learned to be one suspicious son of a b***h. As a result, Mark was having some difficulty accepting that Bane had gotten his hooks in deep and quick. It felt both right and wrong at the same time and it was driving him nuts. Flagen, he simply disliked. But both were excellent physicians, he had to give them that.

Twelve hours had passed since the trial meds had been administered. All of the patients had experienced some slight improvement. Kidney and liver functions had returned, and those patients who were hooked to respirators now only needed oxygen assistance Vitals were at least in reach of normal ranges and the rash began to retreat. Bane and Flagen ordered all patients to be readied for transport to a larger quarantine facility. Mark didn’t think they were ready. Not that either man asked his opinion. After all, he was only the Chief of Staff. It really pissed him off. He had thought at least one of them would make a pretense of consultation.

Governmental assholes, why had he expected any f*****g better from Bane than from any foreign or domestic paper-pushing public health hack? Mark fumed to himself. He hadn’t felt so powerless since med school. The current situation was, in Mark’s mind, weird and out of control. It wasn’t the first time since the epidemic began that he felt that way. This was his specialty. His mind should be making connections. He was missing some vital link, information that would put this riddle to rest. Maybe when his body and mind didn’t thrum with exhaustion, it would come to him. It was imperative that the origin of the virus be pinpointed and dissected. If it wasn’t, it would haunt them again, because it would become resistant to the vaccine and morph into something else. No one was asking questions, at least no one but him. Worse still, no one even tried lying. When the government yokels stopped bullshitting and lying at the same time, the U.S. of A. was in deep waters, playing Titanic. His attention came back to business as one of the first year medical students walked up.

“Dr. Stern, the remaining critical patients are stable.”

Finally, Mark thought. Aloud he said, “I need twenty-five members of staff ready in five to be briefed by CDC on procedure. Take doctors, then physician assistants, degreed nurses, EMTs and first year medical students in that order to make up the number. The remaining staff will attend the cafeteria briefing at 22:00 hours. STAT.” The resident took flight. Mark grinned. He still liked that he could make them do that.

At exactly 22:00 hours, every hospital employee was called to the employee cafeteria for instructions. They all came, secretaries, lab techs, aides, janitors, maids, doctors, and nurses. By 22:15, all of them stood waiting except for Dr. Mark Stern and twenty-five others who had attended the initial briefing. At exactly 22:30, Bane and Flagen took the makeshift podium. The staff stood in awe of the giants from CDC. Drs. Bane and Flagen, flaxen haired with hazel eyes, were as tall as NBA stars but built like linebackers. Every woman left standing, and every gay guy in the house drooled. Bane did most of the talking, and Flagen stood beside him with an air of quiet authority. Despite the crises, the hospital grapevine buzzed and the hot topic was, “Who are these two hunks and why are they at CDC?” Stern’s disdain for doctors who pushed paper rather than treat patients had spilled over to the staff. Stern’s views were on record in a book he wrote about his time with the United Nations. The fact that he offered these two even grudging respect was extraordinary. Yet, no one remembered either Bane or Flagen from medical conferences, where hacks were known to congregate for free meals and golf. Most of the staff shrugged them off as foreigners because of a slight accent to their English; foreign medical personnel came to the United States in droves nowadays. Foreigners at the CDC made sense, so the gossips just left it at that.

Trucks would arrive at 24:00, midnight to the civilians. These trucks would take the critically ill to a central quarantine facility. Trained medical personnel would stay with the patients until they were met by people from CDC. The janitors, maids and other non-medical personnel would help with transport to the ER staging area and sterilize all the newly vacated rooms, putting personal belongings in the plastic bags provided with the patient’s name, social, date of birth, current known address and occupation prior to illness. Dr. Bane had been clear about consequences should a staff member misappropriate any patient’s personal belongings. All of those present would make sure nothing went missing. The threat didn’t need to be overt. Bane’s voice combined with the look on Flagen’s face conveyed menace.