Memoirs Of An Epidemic

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic
What if humanity was swept not by a virus, bacteria, or apocalypse but rather by something we created ourselves?

Submitted: February 17, 2014

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Submitted: February 17, 2014

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“Sir, found a door that leads to the basement we just saw!” said the trainee

“Good job Martin. Clear the rubble for us to inspect.” The military officer spoke.

A good hour of rubble removing later, he began to make his way down as he observed the environment. The first thing he took notice of in the basement was the dried up body of a man in the corner of the room. He made his way to the corpse. “This place is so barren.” He thought as he kneeled down to the body and found a notebook tucked snug in between his arms. He slowly took out the notebook and noticed just how old the notebook was with pieces of paper falling out. “This is ancient,” he muttered as he opened it up.

 

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Entry One.

It’s never really dark but rather the absence of light. It’s been 36 days and I haven’t seen sunlight since. I’m currently residing in my basement with a months’ supply of goods. If I’m found, please let these memoirs serve as the documentation of my final days. My name is Dustin Harris. It all started when news channels reported the identification of a new disease that started spreading rampant in Europe. It almost sounded like that of fiction when I first heard of it. But I didn’t think it'd live up to the likes of the black plague. I recall that in less than a month, 100,000 people were hospitalized. Medical care was being administered in a chaotic manner as countries began closing off all air and water way routes to central Europe. The speculation back then was that the disease had initially derived from a genetically mutated strand of the so called “Vaccine X” which was reportedly said to be readily given to individuals all over the world by the end of 2023. The outbreak was caused over something along the lines of poor facilitative care in laboratories. By the times it reached the masses, it was too late for this work of fiction to not be taken seriously. There hasn’t been much said about it besides the fact that it was originally to be dubbed the first of its kind in a new category of pharmaceuticals called Super Vaccines. Researches promised a drug that would have the capabilities to cure any disease or virus. I know what you’re thinking. Sounds fanatical right? Too fanatical. We all thought so. And we were right. Dead right.

Entry Two.

It’s day 41 and the “vaccine” has already gone beyond making its mark on humanity. I still remember when it first arrived on our states shore. I’d only started working as a general practitioner in North Dunllys Hospital when they diverted me to a patient presenting flu like symptoms. We went through the round of it, taking blood cultures and what not after general antibiotics had little effect. I still remember the franticness of the caller, who stated himself as a physician in Ukraine, as he confirmed to identify that we did indeed take blood cultures. And before I knew it, people coming in protective suits entered the vicinity and asked everyone to leave the hospital grounds under orders of the state governor. The men asked me to stay as they gave me a suit to put on. “Where’s the patient?!” I recall them shouting. I quickly lead them to the patient’s room as I could hear them all cursing under their breaths. “This can’t be.” One man said as he requested the evacuation of patients into the armored facilities standing outside. “Administer them the counter drug, God knows how many of you are already infected.” He continued. I still remember standing there in utter confusion as I feared asking a question would only render an answer I dare not want to know. “So what’s the procedure?” I asked hesitantly. “Firstly, we need to cremate the body.” I stood there in silence as I tried to comprehend the words the man spoke. He left the room and returned rolling in a huge kit of items. “You can’t do this!” I shouted in anger. “He’s still alive!” The man turned to me then to the patients file. “He’s comatose now. And he’ll be dead in no longer than a few days.” I still remember trying to conjure up an argument. “This is wrong.” I spoke quietly. The man smiled. “What’ll be more wrong is to leave the contaminant while it still contains the virus.” His smiled started to fade as the last of his words I recalled were, “We’re all going to die soon.” And that was the first time I witnessed a body getting cremated. I still remember it all. And what I’d do to forget it all.

Entry Three.

Of the news I’ve been hearing, several channels have now pronounced the continent of Europe to be completely wiped out. With Africa and Asia just as nearly demolished. It’s always the scariest when you see the fear on the faces of the broadcasters as well. They’ve informed us that stations will shut down soon as the last of world news will cease to be broadcasted. I've heard reports of bombs to be deploy in heavily infected regions. I’m pretty sure any chances of me trying to contact my folks and friends have been tarnished by now. Cellular reception’s finally out too. It’s only a matter of time before everything else is as well. I’m also sure the bombing’s will completely eradicate my house. The county’s been under Martial Law. And if anyone knew any better, they’d keep themselves to their houses. The bombs are meant to “destroy” any traces of the virus. We are the traces.

Entry Four.

Day 50. Electricity’s been cut. Water lines shut. By now the entire nations been reduced to smithereens. I can start to feel the onset of a fever. It might be the flu like symptoms the very first patient encountered. To think the counter drug they gave me lasted this long. Food supplies are low. I haven’t much left to make do with. I can still hear the bombs setting off. I want to leave but I fear the sight I see won’t do me any good. I wish I knew how much longer this’ll be. I haven’t lived life to its fullest. And that’s probably my greatest regret. It’s also started becoming harder to write, but I must document this all. The final days. I hope someone finds this. I hope someone will know of my story.

Entry Five.

So I decided to take a step out of the basement. To my fortune, the door’s jammed. A bulk of house remnants forced it shut. I tried shouting but my body’s giving up. And nobody can possibly hear me now because I’m almost too sure that no one’s around to hear me. I only wish there were some vents or windows I’d be able to crawl out of. Alas, this isn’t a movie. No such luck occurs. I’m slowly losing my ability to move around. All I have now is a limited supply of bottled water and canned foods. When will this end.

 

Entry Six.

I fear the nights the most. I’m starting to “see” noise. I don’t know what was going through the mind of patient 1 when he contracted the virus but I can slowly feel my motor skills and comprehension  deteriorating. I can barely write without taking a break. But in these times, I’m left to wonder if the next generation will know of this, but more over, I do wonder also if there will be a next generation at all. I don’t know the date anymore but I can presume it’s somewhere around the beginning of winter between the 5th and 20th of September, 2019. I think this is all I can do.

Final entry.

I marked this as the last I’m going to write. It’s pointless to continue. If this notebook is found, please preserve it. I’ve developed a recurring fever, and rash that’s covered over half of my body starting from my feet. Following the rash, is a total loss of motor function in the areas the rash resides at. I’ve now lost total motor function of my lower body, from the pelvis inferiorly. What I’m not sure of is why patient 1 fell into a coma while I didn’t. But I suppose whatever the men back then administered to me somehow wore off whatever triggered the coma in patient 1. I don’t know how much longer I have and I assume I’ll pass away within the next day. I’m honestly afraid. In only a matter of time, I’ll cease to exist. And my life would have been for nothing. But I do hope this reaches the outside. I really do hope.

 

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“Whoa.” He thought in awe. “And this is 11 years back too.” He muttered as he contemplated over his discovery. “What should I do with-”

“Martin!” he heard the officer.

“Y-yes, sir! Body confirmed!” He had to make the quick decision as he quickly stuffed the notebook into his protective suits pocket.

“Just one?” The officer asked as he came down.

“Yes.” The trainee confirmed.

“Alright then,” he said as he hinted for the trainee to leave, “I’ll take it from here. Tell the boys upstairs to bring the tools in.

“Yes, sir.” The trainee answered as he left the basement. The officer looked around as he waited for the men. “The whole room, right?” one officer asked as he stepped in with two other men holding equipment. “Yea that’ll do” the officer said as he made his way to the stairs, “Can’t let anything in here leave after all.” He chuckled as he left the room.


© Copyright 2019 Ali Terkawi . All rights reserved.

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