Ken McClure: The Lazarus Strain

In addition to this uncertainty, it is not unknown for production problems to arise during the long and delicate manufacturing process of flu vaccine. If such problems cannot be eliminated quickly, there will almost certainly be neither the time nor the resources necessary to start over, leaving the pharmaceutical company facing large losses without compensation.

In October 2004, Chiron, a major flu vaccine supplier based in Liverpool, encountered a problem with bacterial contamination in the vaccine they were preparing for the following winter. Despite their best efforts, the company failed to eradicate it and the British authorities were forced to withdraw their license. Forty million doses had to be destroyed without recompense.

As Chiron had been one of only two manufacturers contracted to supply flu vaccine to the American market by the US Food and Drug Administration, the USA suffered a severe shortage of flu vaccine in the winter of 2004 — 05 — something that even became an American election issue with Senator John Kerry accusing President George W. Bush of failing to protect the vulnerable of US society. Ironically the UK government had licensed six companies to provide flu vaccine so the shortfall was not as marked in the UK.

It is against this factual backdrop that the fictional The Lazarus Strain has been written.

Norfolk

England

October 2004

‘You know, planting beech hedging was quite the daftest thing I ever did,’ said David Elwood, kicking off his Wellingtons at the kitchen door. ‘I seem to spend half my life picking up leaves. It’s autumn every month of the year!’

‘I know dear,’ replied his wife, Mary, who had heard it all before. ‘Why don’t you sit down and read your paper and I’ll make us a nice sandwich for lunch. Cheese or bacon?’

‘Bacon please, dear. Should have planted conifers like any sensible person… But no, that man at the garden centre assured me that the leaves stay on beech hedging… it’ll give you beautiful golden leaves throughout the winter, he said. What he didn’t mention was that I’d be up to my knees in beautiful golden leaves from October to May…’

Mary smiled as David grumbled his way through to the living room. She liked the beech hedging; in fact she liked everything about the cottage they had moved to in Norfolk when David had retired some six years ago. She knew that he liked it too despite his grumbles. The garden kept him busy and that was fine because it prevented him having to face up to the fact that he had little else to do. He might complain — and he did, incessantly — but looking after the garden and doing maintenance work about the place gave him a sense of purpose and, as a retired lecturer in electrical engineering with little or no outside interests or hobbies, this was important. She had reading and knitting to occupy her but come the end of the bowling season in October, David had nothing. ‘Coffee or tea?’ she called out.

‘Tea please,’ came the reply.

‘Mary put six rashers of bacon under the grill and turned it to high before slicing open three rolls — two for David, one for her. She was on a diet but when it came to a choice between grilled bacon and low fat cheese spread on a Sunday, the diet was flexible. She buttered the rolls and switched on the kettle, popping two teabags in the teapot before pausing to look out of the window at the garden while she waited. She shivered as a cloud passed over the autumn sun and a cool breeze wafted in through the open window.

She leaned over to close it when suddenly, the daylight was blocked out by a dark form that moved in front of the window and an incredibly strong, black hairy hand shot in to grasp her arm and she cried out in pain and alarm.

Her scream was stifled by a second arm reaching in, gripping the back of her neck and slamming her head down on the draining board. She was stunned by the impact but not knocked unconscious: she was even aware of the bacon starting to splutter under the grill as she slumped slowly down to the floor. She lost her spectacles on the way down and could only vaguely make out the black figure who, by now, had come in through the window and was beating her with his fists and making loud screeching sounds.

‘David!’ she managed to call out before more blows rained in on her and she suddenly became aware of the teeth of the thing that was attacking her: they were big and yellow and pointed. She curled up into a foetal ball, still trying to call out her husband’s name but her throat had tightened with horror.

Quite suddenly the thing seemed to lose interest in her and turned away. It now seemed fascinated by the spluttering bacon. Cautiously she felt out along the floor and retrieved her spectacles. ‘David!’ she called out as she saw that she had a large monkey in her kitchen. The animal ignored her: it was intent on trying to reach its paw under the grill.

‘What on earth…’ exclaimed David Elwood as he opened the kitchen door to be confronted by his wife lying bleeding on the floor and a monkey screeching in pain as it burned itself on the grill. ‘Get out of it!’ he yelled as the animal started to career around the kitchen, scattering pots and pans, furious at the pain in his burnt paw. David waved his arms ineffectually as he tried to give chase but the animal evaded him with ease and leapt up on to a high shelf to turn and bare its teeth at him.

‘Be careful,’ cried Mary. ‘It’s vicious!’

‘Get out of here, Mary,’ said David quietly, moving cautiously between his wife and the animal. ‘Get out and phone the police…’

Mary dragged herself slowly across the floor and reached up for the door handle just as the animal launched itself and sank its teeth into David’s shoulder. Both fell to the floor, the animal screeching and David yelling out in pain and cursing incoherently as the pair of them rolled over in a tumbling fray of fur, limbs and blood.

Mary didn’t phone the police; instead, she pulled an umbrella from the stand in the hall and returned to the fray to help her husband, pausing only to open the kitchen window wide before starting to the beat the animal across its back with the handle of the umbrella while holding the pointed end. ‘Get out of here!’ she screamed. ‘Get out of our house! Do you hear me? Get out, you disgusting animal! Get out!’

The animal lost interest in David and turned to face up to Mary but then thought better of it when she caught it with a blow across the face which sent it tumbling to the floor. It leapt up on to the draining board and sprang out through the open window, to run, still screeching, on all fours across the lawn disappearing into the shrubbery.

Mary knelt down beside David to assess the damage. He was bleeding profusely from the bites on his shoulder and also from multiple scratches on his face. ‘You are in a mess, love,’ she said, hugging him for a moment. ‘Come on. Let’s get you cleaned up.’

‘Did you call the police?’ asked David.

‘No… I was busy,’ replied Mary.

David looked up at her sheepishly and smiled. ‘Of course, you were, love,’ he said and gave her hand a squeeze. ‘I think we could both do with a bit of cleaning up. Whoever said nothing ever happens in Norfolk?’

‘You, I think,’ snapped Mary, betraying the edginess she felt. ‘I’ll give them a call now.’

Mary got up but paused to take another look at David’s wounds. ‘This shoulder of yours is going to need proper medical attention and an anti-tetanus shot. I don’t think either of us should drive. I’ll get them to send an ambulance as well.’

Mary got a predictable response from the police. ‘A what?’

‘A monkey of some sort, a big one. It came in through the kitchen window while I was making lunch.’