The Jupiter Plague

“Yet he’s right in a way, as long as things are going smoothly outside and they’re bringing the cases under control…”

“But they’re not going smoothly, I’ve seen enough of what’s going on to realize that. And that’s not the point. Smooth or not, we must take the right measures or this plague will spread to every corner of the world.”

As the elevator doors opened before them its loudspeaker broke into life and was echoed by the other speakers in the hall behind them.

“Dr. Roussell, Dr. Christensen, Dr. Bertolli, Dr. Invar. Will you please report to the Emergency Room. Dr. Roussell, Dr. Christensen…”

“What can it be?” Nita asked, looking at him with worried eyes.

“More trouble. The boat is being rocked in spite of Dr. Edward Perkins. Look, Nita, don’t wait for him to make up his mind — send a copy of your findings to Professor Chabel at World Health.”

“I couldn’t, that would be going over his head!”

“Try not to be so sweet and civilized, that’s a luxury we are going to have to forego for a while. Let Chabel know.” He stepped inside the elevator as the doors closed, then was gone from her sight. “Sam Bertolli, I just don’t know what to make of you,” she said to herself as she rang for the next elevator. It was a civilized world and a well-ordered world, and he just didn’t seem to fit into it at times. When the elevator arrived she saw that there were stains on the smooth white walls and drops of fresh blood on the gray floor. She shivered. Perhaps the world was not as ordered and civilized as she supposed.

“Another riot, that’s all I know,” Roussell said. “Move your big dirty feet, Chris — this is my last pair of whites.” Dr. Christensen, who was sprawled on his back occupying most of the room on the stretcher, only rattled a guttural snore in answer. The other three interns looked at him enviously, rocking back and forth as the ambulance raced through the deserted streets. They had all been on continuous duty longer than they cared to remember.

“What’s the city like now?” Sam asked. “I’ve been out in the woods all day running down a supposed cure for Rand’s disease.”

“No cure?” Invar asked.

“No disease. Boils. The doctor was old, enthusiastic, nearsighted and should have been put out to pasture thirty years ago.”

“The city’s falling apart,” Roussell said. “People think we’re lying when we tell them they can’t catch Rand’s from each other but only from birds. So everything is closed up tight. Rioting, violence, break-ins, rape, religious nuts, drunks. It’s just lovely. Anyone have a benny? It looks like another night without sleep.”

“It’s fear,” Invar said. “People are afraid to leave their homes so the normal city life has broken down. The military is keeping most of the essential services like electricity and phones going, and they have been trucking in food, but they can’t keep it up forever — not in a city this size. Tension is building and there has been a constant run of new cases of the plague — people can see that and their nerves are getting rubbed raw — and the ban oft all traveling is the last straw. It makes good epidemiological sense but to the guy in the street it looks like he is going to be trapped on this rock until he dies.”

“He may be right,” Sam said, thinking of Nita’s experiment with the dog.

“No depressing thoughts, Doctor!” Roussell said, raising his eyebrows. “We must be brave, clean, reverent—”

“That’s for boy scouts, not physicians. Neither rain nor hail nor gloom of night—

“And that’s for postmen,” Christensen mumbled, rolling over on the stretcher. “Now will you bunch of old women kindly shut up so I can get some sleep.”

A police car passed them with a wail of its siren and in the distance they heard the warbling wail of a fire engine. In the background, growing louder and more ominous, a roar like distant breakers.

“What the hell?”

“A mob, Doctor, the citizens of our fair state showing their resentment of constituted authority.”

“They sound like animals.”

“They are,” Christensen said, opening his eyes and groaning. “We all are. Just below the surface the red-eyed beast lurks. So into battle, Doctors. What was it old Shakespeare said? ‘Once more unto the breach, dear friends!’ ”

The ambulance lurched to a stop and when Sam threw the rear door open the harsh roar of a multitude of voices poured in. The bantering, the moment of good-natured attempt to forget the world outside was ended. As their expressions changed, firmed, they were physicians again. They climbed down as the driver hurried around to help them unload the stretchers.