Greg Krojac - The Schrödinger Enigma

“Cut thumbprint off.”

Sitara was horrified at the words.

“Cut thumbprint off. Opens doors.”

“I can’t.”

“Have to. Do it now.”

Sitara was surprised how forceful the dying woman was. She took the scalpel from the nurse and held it to Suzy’s right thumb. She froze for a moment before her eyes welled up with tears. [13] Why wouldn’t Sitara just wait until Suzy was dead? It’s obvious she’s about to, so why cause her more unnecessary pain?

“I can’t. I can’t do it. Can I wait until after?”

“Do it now. I…I need to know you’re safe.”

Sitara brought the blade close to Suzy’s thumb but drew back again, unable to follow through with the grotesque task – even though she knew her life depended upon it.

“Sorry. I just can’t do it.”

Suzy wheezed.

“Give back.”

Sitara handed the scalpel back and was forced to look away as Suzy sawed off the fleshy tip of her thumb, leaving the thumbprint intact. Her determination to release Sitara from her sterile prison trumped any pain that either the disease or the blade could throw at her. Suzy swallowed a gulp of air, as blood gushed from the wound.

“Take thumbprint. Open doors.”

It was hard for her to do so, but Sitara took the bloody thumbprint from the nurse, wiping it clean on her towel. Suzy tapped Sitara’s leg.

“Clothes in locker room. Open doors. Thumbprint.”

It was becoming almost impossible to breathe. Sitara could do nothing to help Suzy but at least she could ensure that her nurse wouldn’t die alone. Three minutes later it was all over and Suzy had taken her last breath. Sitara leant over and kissed her on her forehead.

“Thank you, my friend. Thank you for saving my life.”

She stood up, and saw that the towel had several pus and bloodstains on it from where she had held Suzy, but she couldn’t be concerned about that now. She really needed some clothes. [14] this doesn’t make sense in the sentence. Maybe make it’s own sentence? “She really needed some clothes.” She took a few seconds to compose herself, before stepping over Suzy’s corpse into the ante-room. She was faced by the closed door, but this time she had her macabre key. A sudden fear swept over her – what if the disembodied thumbprint didn’t work? She delicately placed the thumbprint over the optical reader.

Nothing happened.

What could be wrong? Perhaps there wasn’t enough pressure behind the print? She screwed up her face in disgust as she placed Suzy’s thumbprint over that of her own and pressed it against the reader. This time the door clicked open. She rushed through to find herself in an empty corridor. Which way should she go? Left? Right? Did it matter? She saw exit signs pointing to the left, and would have loved to leave the hospital straightaway, but she couldn’t leave the hospital wearing only the towel. She turned right, hoping that she was going the correct way.

Three more locked doors were opened, and Sitara found herself outside the recreation room. She entered but almost walked out straightaway when she saw Ian’s corpse sat up in an armchair looking into space.

She went over to the lockers, all of which were secured by an electronic lock, each requiring the owner’s thumbprint in order to gain access. Pushing her squeamishness to one side, she pressed Suzy’s thumb over each of the four readers until one of the doors opened.

She looked inside. There were a couple of paperback books, half a dozen magazines, a make-up bag, a pair of stonewashed denim jeans, a T-shirt, a pair of black lacy panties, and a pair of Nike training shoes. She was surprised at the T-shirt – Suzy hadn’t seemed like a Led Zeppelin fan. She also thanked Allah that she and Suzy were more or less the same size, clothes wise at least. She turned to face away from the lifeless Ian as she let the towel drop and hurriedly put on the panties, T-shirt and jeans. She knew he was dead and that his eyes could see nothing, but she still felt an urge to protect at least some of her modesty. The T-shirt was a snug fit, but not so snug that it could cause her any embarrassment. The trainers were one size too large for her, but they would have to do. It wasn’t as if she had much choice. She looked inside the locker again and found a few pairs of running socks. She put two socks on each foot in an effort to make the Nikes a better fit.

Clothed again and feeling much more comfortable, she retraced her route back to the isolation room, looking straight ahead as she passed it, so as to avoid seeing Suzy’s body again. Another two doors and she was outside, taking a deep breath of fresh air and feeling the spring breeze on her face for the first time in four days.

The Clinical Health Center had been disturbingly empty as Sitara had made her way to the exit. Unbeknown to her, Ian and Suzy had been the only nurses still on the campus. Everybody else, both staff and inpatients, had been sent home to die with their families. Sitara was the exception – while she was alive, there was hope. Ian and Suzy, along with a handful of research scientists had volunteered to stay behind, ignoring the urge to join their families and friends, and instead dedicating their remaining time to what they considered to be mankind’s final battle. And now every one of them was dead.

The streets of Bethesda were not completely empty. Dozens of empty cars were parked along the wide streets, waiting for drivers who would never return. Most of Bethesda’s residents had returned to their homes to offer comfort and solace to each other before the inevitable wave of death overcame them. But some of those who were alone in the city had tried to pretend that nothing was wrong, that somehow by ignoring the disease they could make it all go away. But the truth was that they were terrified of dying alone.

It was the bodies of lonely people who littered the streets of the beautiful city. Sitara wished that she had been given the opportunity to experience Bethesda before it was ravaged by the plague. The bars and restaurants looked intriguing. In a different time, she would have loved to have checked out the Cava Mezze Grill, Jaleo Spanish restaurant, and Sweetgreen’s, and would have tucked into a delicious sandwich from Potbelly’s Sandwich Bar. [15] too repetitive But she didn’t even know where her next meal was coming from.

It would have been bad enough if the bodies on the streets were simply inanimate versions of their previous selves, but each and every one of them bore the scars and marks of the torture they had faced in their final moments. The red wheals on the victims’ skins were unsightly, but not enough to make Sitara turn her head away in disgust – she turned her head out of sorrow. Each and every corpse was steeped in its own waste, flies buzzing around the corpses enjoying so many impromptu meals. A few were not yet dead, finding the strength in their draining bodies to stretch an arm towards Sitara, imploring her to help them or put them out of their misery, but she could do neither.

The smell on the streets was becoming unbearable and made her gag more than once. She had to get away from all these dead and dying people, but she had no idea in which direction she should run. It didn’t really make much difference – she was bound to arrive at the city limits eventually. She nearly stumbled over a young child, the bodies of his dead parents snuggled up to him, and a poodle – obviously their pet – was left wandering between the three of them, unsure of what to do next.

The sight of dead children was the worst. She passed a playground and saw the body of a young girl, slumped on a swing. A woman, face stained by tears, lay dead on the ground directly behind her – Sitara imagined that the girl’s mother had probably taken her to play at the park one last time. Had she seen the life seeping out of her daughter and been unable to leave her side? Tears filled Sitara’s eyes as she noticed a sticker on the child’s dress, proudly proclaiming ‘It’s my birthday. I am five’.