Quarantine

word count: 2757

Quarantine

Ian kicked out at the two men dragging him down the white, sanitized corridor. "I'm not sick, I have a headache and I sneezed once, it's nothing." He protested. It was in vain.

The two strong men marched, dragged and - in some places - carried him past identical door after identical door until they finally reached their destination. How they knew at which door to deposit him was a marvel to Ian, who had long ago become disorientated by all the white.

As soon as they released him Ian turned and bolted for the opening. The orderlies were ready for him though, and with a firm shove pushed him back into the room. He sat where he landed and kicked the door a few times; though the reality of his situation had taken away any enthusiasm he had felt about escape. He was in quarantine. There was no escape from that.

"Don't worry about it, take the rest while you can." A man said from within the room.

Ian looked up, for the first time noticing the three beds. The speaker was sitting up in the middle one, his back against the wall. He was perhaps a year or two younger than Ian and had a friendly face, made all the more apparent by the huge smile he sported on it. " I feel fine." Ian said, realizing he was staring at the man. "I need to get out of here, I have work to do,  I'm..."

"Going nowhere for the next two weeks. You may as well make the most of it." The man finished for him, raking a hand through his dark brown hair. "The name's Marty by the way." He added.

"Ian."

"Nice to meet you Ian, wish it could have been under better circumstances, but nice nonetheless."

"How long have you been here?"

"Three days. Richard over there has been in a week." Marty said indicating the other bed.

Ian stood and for the first time took in his new surroundings. Aside from the three beds there were three chairs around a central table and small bedside tables. The only source of light was from the ceiling. There were no windows, the only exit was the one he had just entered. He made his way to the vacant bed and sat down heavily. "Two weeks."  Ian muttered, still a little shocked at the speed this had all happened. It had been less than an hour since he'd taken an aspirin and sneezed and he was already locked up in quarantine.

"They move pretty fast these days, young man." The one Marty had called Richard said, as if reading his mind.

"Ian."

"Richard,  I'm sure Marty already told you that but it's nice to see some manners have survived."

"You said these days. How old are you?" Ian couldn't recall a time quarantine hadn't been enforced, though he'd been lucky enough to avoid it until now.

"Not all manners it would seem." Richard said wryly, "Old enough to know why they do this."

"Because they wouldn't be happy if they weren't controlling every aspect of our lives?"

"There is that aspect to it of course, but that is just a by-product. Quarantine was introduced after the outbreak in Eleven. You see back then the world's population was in the billions. Jobs were hard to get and even harder to hang on to. Employers had all the power. A few tried to reintroduce the unions but people being sacked based on nothing more than rumours put an end to that. After all there were always a dozen more ready to take their place gratefully."

"You're kidding me. There are never enough people to fill the jobs we need doing and there is no way this country could support those numbers..."

"Not now there aren't and I didn't say this country's population I said world. The other continents are habitable, or they used to be. It's been so long since anyone has been there it is hard to know for certain. One of the first things they did was move everyone here. 'Easier to run one country well than many badly.' I think was the standard line. Of course those same people were buying up the land of those countries that were evacuated, so perhaps they knew more about the habitability of them then they shared."

"Why buy land in an empty country? They can't benefit from it."

"Capitalism at its finest. Buy cheap from the desperate, sell dearly to the equally desperate years later." Marty said.

"Well put. Nice to see you were paying some attention last time. Either way that isn't really important. Suffice to say it was a crowded world ruled by money. As work grew less secure, the employers grew more demanding; longer hours, less pay and a lot less time off. It used to be you stayed off until you had recovered from your illness but they changed that to five days a year. Any more and you lost your job. It was because of this that the outbreak spread as far as it did. One person, forced to go in or be sacked. Every one thought it was just a bad cold, but it was far worse than that." Richard paused as a coughing fit took hold; forcing his whole body to shake. A strand of thin, grey hair fell from its binding, Marty pushed it out of Richard's face as he handed him a glass of water.

Ian looked around again, he'd seen no sign of a sink let alone glasses when he'd looked around last time. He still didn't.

"I'll show you later." Marty said quietly, as Richard looked ready to continue. The water in the glass had a pinkish tinge to it now.

"They still don't know what it was; only that it was fatal to nearly all that contracted it. You see the day this first known carrier went into work was the day three of his colleagues used their four days holiday to fly somewhere different. They went that night, after work, to make the most of their free time, perhaps hoping never to go back. If that was the case, they got their wish. The day after they flew off, he died. Three days after he infected them, they too died. By then they had infected not only the airport they left from, but all the other passengers and all the different airports they were going to. Within two weeks of that first known case a quarter of the worlds population was dead or dying. Within a month it was over half. By the time it had run its course over eighty percent of the population had been infected, of those only seven percent survived. It spread so easily, killed so swiftly, no government could do anything to stop it. By the time they knew it was amongst their people it was too late. Once they had recovered the economy sufficiently to sustain the remaining inhabitants of the planet they introduced these quarantine measures to try and stop it ever happening again."

No wonder Marty had seemed pleased that he had been here three days, Ian thought as he digested Richards story. How much of it he believed he wasn't quite sure but it had a ring of truth to it, vague memories of things he'd heard in school before they had taken history off the curriculum, stories of the good old days by old men with too much time on their hands... Another thought suddenly occurred to him. What if that was what he had? He had just infected those who must by now assume they were safe...He gave voice to those concerns, apologizing profusely as he did so.

"Maybe I had it and was one of the lucky ones, I could have infected you just as easily." Marty said. "You can't think like that, you'll go mad and you know how they deal with those."

Ian shuddered. This world no longer had the resources to deal with those that couldn't be productive members of society it was better to kill them, they said, than to force them to continue life in such a way.

"Be grateful you were born here on Desaf. I've heard that other worlds were incinerated once they realized how swiftly it spread. They could ill afford to rebuild any other world but this one." Marty said.

"I heard about that. I think. Before they stopped teaching history there was something about colonies being completely wiped out by a local virus."

"True enough. As earth seeded us so we seeded other worlds.  Despite a swift ban on space travel a few managed to flee, hoping they could survive the outbreak. They took the infection with them, as well as any hope the Desaf survivors had of utilizing the resources of the colonies to rebuild here. They decided to wipe out the colonies, to prevent Desaf being infected again. So technically they were wiped out by the virus, albeit in a round about way."


"When I get out of here, perhaps I can..."

"Ian it's best not to make too many plans for the outside world; not on your first day." Marty interrupted him, his eyes alone betrayed any sense of urgency.

"You're right of course, an old man's tall tale and too much free time on my hands I guess I got caught up in the moment." Ian said, with a little direction from Marty.

"We're clear." Marty said. "They watch or listen to us from time to time, those little lights up there let us know when.  Green means they're listening, Red that they are watching. It's best to conform to the norm during those times. Even us sick folk must not be too unproductive."

***********

"What are they up to now?" Doctor Mike Reardon asked, a little irked at being pulled away from a fine malt whisky and an even finer woman.

"Plotting, sir."

"Those two are always plotting. I told you; shared hallucinations are  rare but not unusual, it doesn't mean it's the virus...just the subjects reaction to it." Doctor Reardon said, trying to keep his voice calm.

"Which is why Doctor Leary had another subject introduced. All three are now sharing the delusion that they  are in some kind of quarantine ward." Guardsman Robert Keller said. "They also know we're observing  them, sir."

"How long has this group survived?"

"Day two for the first subject, from the amount of blood he's coughing up he'll not see another night. Sir."

Doctor Reardon swore. So close and yet so far. The hallucinations were the main problem. What was the point of creating the ultimate bio weapon if everyone knew that was what it was?  Any who survived would not have to think very hard as to who the culprit was. He swore again. "Give it another day. If the latest subject shows no sign of improvement; eradicate them all. Move on to Leary's test." The last words were all but forced out.

"Yes, Sir. Thing is, Sir, I..." Bob stopped. "I'm sure it's nothing, sir, forget I spoke." He added, seeing from the look in Reardon's eye it was pointless to ask for any leniency.

"Keep me apprised." Doctor Reardon snapped. More annoyed at his own failure than anything the guard had done. He wasn't too pleased about Leary's interference either, it meant the government was getting impatient with him, and they didn't deal well with failure; real or perceived.

"You can't kill Ian. He was one of us." Nick said to Bob as soon as Doctor Reardon was out of earshot.

"He's dead anyway.  How many have ever survived any of these? Two? Three?"

"I've been asking about. There was an Earth, some records have survived that say we are their descendents, what if this virus is somehow triggering a genetic memory? What if we have done this before and are somehow getting a second chance?"

"You know you can't talk like that Nick. I was wrong to think about trying to save him."

"It's only fatal in two thirds of the test subjects, right?"

"As far as we know...Still it is too much of a risk."
"Richard's on his last legs, Marty isn't too far behind, the odds are in Ian's favour. Who would notice?  It's not like they check up on us once they give the order." Nick argued. "Come on, he was one of us."

"He knew about the testing clause. It's why we get paid so well."

"While we're here, sure, but Ian was out. He was free. I have a friend in pick up. Ian will never know he was here."

"He's delusional, someone will notice."

"What if it's temporary?"

"We'll give it another day. If he shows no other signs of the illness and he starts to recall reality, then we let him go." Bob said, after a moments pause. Reardon hadn't  exactly endeared himself to the guards so how could he expect their loyalty?

***********

Ian woke to an incessant alarm. It seemed to be keeping beat with the throbbing in his head. Reaching out an equally aching arm, he struck down at the offending noise. He closed his eyes for a brief moment, gathering both his strength and his thoughts. He felt more tired now than when he went to bed.

He considered calling in sick again, but he'd already had two days this year and  it was only early spring. With a weary sigh he forced his pain wracked body off his bed and into his clothes.  His body protested every move but, as usual, will power won out.  He opened the refrigeration unit but  closed it swiftly as the myriad of odours caused his stomach to join the rebellion that was his body.

The only bright thought he had was that at least he could pass on this bug to his boss. See how much he enjoyed his holiday then.

Clinging to that thought, Ian headed into work.

"You look like hell." Colin said in greeting, as Ian sat at the desk they shared. "No wonder you didn't phone in."

" I did."

"Only on the first day, you skipped yesterday.  I told them your phone was on the fritz."


"I can't have." Ian said, recalling that strange dream he'd had.

"Hey don't worry, one look at you and they'll know it was genuine. Just do me a favour and keep whatever weird and wonderful bug you've gone and found to yourself. I don't want to spend my dream holiday in bed... At least not  in that way."

"Holiday?"

"The one I've been planning since I started here five years ago?"

"I thought that was next week." Ian said, all he could think about was Richard's story.  "Just out of curiosity is anyone else flying off tonight?"

"Just the boss and Steve, from accounts. Don't worry, I think they'll get temps in." Colin said as Ian went even paler.

Ian looked at the calendar hanging on the wall, confirming what he had already started to suspect. He was the source of the plague.  He would die soon, and take nearly eighty percent of the world with him. He vomited over his desk.

"Ian no job is worth this. You should go home."

"I can't. Don't you see? It's too late. I was given a second chance and I threw it away for what? A decent wage."

"Ian, You're not well." Colin said.

"I can't be the first known case. I hallucinated, dreamt or something, but no one else is, right?" Ian said, his thoughts tripping over each other as they fought for the freedom of being spoken. "Unless the dream or hallucination was a warning, in which case I have just wiped out most of Desaf."

"Ian, stop it, you're scaring me." Colin said, giving a barely perceivable nod to the next desk.

Ian, however, in his heightened state of anxiety noticed it. "What was that? Did you just turn me in? To whom? The government, I should have known they wouldn't let me go so easily. Or did you call quarantine? Do you even know about the quarantine ward?"

"People who can help you Ian, that's all." Colin said, his head had begun to throb and as much as he liked Ian he wasn't giving up this holiday for him.

Ian kicked out at the two men dragging him down the corridor.

A man stood, taking notes.

Colin let out a sneeze.