Pandemic

The soldier grunted a humorless chuckle, and then grabbed the documents. A few moments later, Lee slid his filthy car into a parking spot in the gravel lot. Outside the building's entrance, Lee and his passengers went through a similar security screen. And again one hundred meters down the corridor, but this time their papers were more thoroughly scrutinized by soldiers who wore lab hoods. At each checkpoint closer to the patients, Lee sensed a higher degree of disquiet among the guards. Inside the building, the tension in the air was palpable.

A guard led the three of them up the stairway to an office, where a small, balding, bespectacled official sat at a huge desk, which accentuated his diminutive size. He introduced himself only as Dr. Wu, but Lee knew he was the associate director of the regional hospital.

Wu studied Lee's silent companions for a few moments. "You are aware of the risks?" he finally asked.

Both men nodded.

"And yet you still want to see the patient?"

More nods.

"To pray for him?" Wu said with a raised eyebrow.

"He is our brother, sir," the taller man said in halting Chinese, leaving it unclear whether he meant the patient was a blood relative or a member of the same religious order. "We can't offer our blessings unless we see him in person."

"I see." Wu nodded, but his frown questioned the man's sanity. "By protocol, no one, not even family, is allowed to visit."

Lee shifted in his chair. What is this nonsense? he thought. Was this tiny bureaucrat renegotiating his price at the eleventh hour? Lee reached into his case and pulled out the thick envelope. "Doctor, I think these papers explain everything." He slid it across the desk allowing the envelope's flap to flash a glimpse of greenbacks.

In one motion. Wu swept the envelope into an open drawer and pushed it shut. He rose from his desk without gaining much height. "You will have five minutes. No more. Do not touch anything. You will wear full protective gear. You will need to decontaminate—" Seeing the confusion on their faces, he rolled his eyes and said, "You must shower after the visit."

The men nodded. Lee bowed his pudgy form toward the. associate director. "Thank you, Dr. Wu. You are most accommodating."

Wu's eyes narrowed in disdain. "Five minutes" he reminded them. "One of my men will stay with you. He will tell you when—"

The shorter of Lee's customer, though much taller than Wu, spoke up for the first time. "No. Doctor. This is between our brother and God," he said in near-perfect Mandarin. "We need a few minutes of privacy."

Before Wu finished violently shaking his head, the man had his hand extended, offering another fat envelope from his briefcase.

Wu hesitated. For a moment it seemed as if he might refuse the offer, but he snatched the envelope and scrambled back to his desk. He dropped the envelope as if it were on fire in the same drawer he'd deposited the other. "Five minutes, not a second more," he said.

Another guard led them into the changing rooms. After gowning and gloving, they passed through two sets of doors that served as a makeshift hermetic seal. On the other side, they changed into yellow biohazard suits before donning particle-filtrating hoods. Lee thought they resembled three misplaced beekeepers, but he kept the thought to himself. He was gripped by sudden foreboding,

Following the soldier, they walked through another set of airtight doors and onto the hospital ward. The similarly garbed staff paid little heed as the three men headed down the dingy corridor, but with each step Lee's anxiety rose. He struggled to breathe in the suffocating hood. Beads of sweat ran down his face and pooled at his collar. No one had told him that he would have to join the others in the patient's room!

Their soldier escort stopped at the last door in the hallway. He knocked. A nurse emerged from inside and shut the door behind her. After a brief exchange, she nodded and walked off down the hallway. The soldier held up five fingers to the others.

The tall one entered first. Lee hesitated, but the crisp shove from behind left him little choice but to follow. Inside the cramped room, surrounded by machines and IV drips, a patient lay on the bed. At least, Lee thought he was the patient but wasn't certain since the form on the bed was entirely swaddled in plastic bundles. The beeping machines and the occasional rustle of the plastic sheets suggested someone might be alive under the sheets. The whirring from the life-support system's ventilator by his head obscured most other sounds. But the longer he stood, the more aware Lee became of a harsh gurgling sound. Appalled, he realized it emanated from the patient, not the machine.

No one moved. Then both Malays fell to their knees. Lee experienced a fleeting moment of relief. Maybe they had come to pray for their brother after all?

But the relief was short-lived. They weren't praying. They jumbled at their legs, eventually withdrawing packages from inside their boots.