Jody Shields - The Winter Station

“Rats are being eradicated all over the city under General Khorvat’s highly successful bounty program.” Zabolotny gestured at Khorvat, seated at the head of the table with Wu and his translator.

Khorvat acknowledged his praise. “The latest tally reported nearly five thousand dead rats have been collected. There’s great progress conquering the vermin problem. The streets will be made safe.”

“The effectiveness of the extermination will be demonstrated by a decline in the number of cases.”

Iasienski was increasingly impatient. “There’s another important issue to discuss. What procedure is in place for burying plague corpses?”

Wu’s response was immediate. “The dead won’t be returned to their families. It’s a risk to move corpses around the city. They’re infectious.”

“A field outside the city has been marked as a common grave,” Khorvat said. “A few rat hunters have been recruited to drive corpses to the field.”

“It’s fine to bury the corpses,” Mesny said, “but we need blood. We need tissue and samples from infected lungs and the lymphatic glands. Scrapings from the mucosa of the bronchi should be examined. We must autopsy corpses to determine how bacilli act.”

“Autopsies are against Chinese tradition. Opening up a body is prohibited. But Dr. Wu certainly has more knowledge than I do.” The Baron turned to assess Wu’s reaction and watched him glance at Zabolotny.

Several doctors were obviously relieved that Wu ignored the Baron and allowed his comment to pass.

Then Zabolotny widened his eyes in mock astonishment. “No autopsies? We risk our lives for this epidemic and we’re stopped by a quaint custom? What century is this?”

The Baron placed his hands on the table as a platform for his words. “Unlike Western medicine, Chinese medical practice doesn’t rely on autopsies. There’s no history of autopsy in China, so you can understand why it isn’t accepted. Their conception of the body is entirely foreign to us. It’s truly unimaginable. That’s not to say it has no basis in fact. The Chinese have had an established system of medicine for a thousand years.”

Mesny jumped in. “I welcome your lesson about Chinese medicine, but we’re here to stop an epidemic with our medicine. The Chinese have a proven history of failure with epidemics.”

“I’ll remind you, Dr. Mesny, that we have no cure for the plague,” the Baron said.

“Dr. Haffkine reports great progress with his serum.”

The Baron didn’t take Mesny’s bait. “On the street, they say the bodies of dead Chinese are harvested to make medicine for Russians. Any Chinese who suspected their bodies would be eviscerated after death would refuse treatment in our hospital. This also relates to their religious beliefs. Without rites and a proper burial, they’re condemned in the afterlife. We’re all familiar with the concept of eternal damnation. We cannot solve this epidemic without their cooperation. There could be violence.”

Mesny dismissed his words. “Then we’d better cozy up to the Japanese for protection.”

“You joke, but the Chinese vastly outnumber Russians in Kharbin. Only a few years ago, Chinese mobs killed foreigners during the Boxer Rebellion. I hid in the woods for three days—” Messonier was interrupted.

With a gesture, Khorvat swept him aside. “Let’s finish the meeting. Time is wasting. It’s unlikely the Chinese will kill Russian doctors. Imagine how that would look to the world. They will lose face. China already struggles with foreign criticism, since no one believes they can manage the epidemic without international aid. That’s why doctors were brought in from several countries. Remember, the only hospitals in China were built by missionaries. That said, the Chinese look for any excuse to rid this place of Russians. This talk of harvesting Chinese bodies could incite protest. There aren’t enough Russian soldiers to contain hundreds of rioters. The situation is volatile.”

Khorvat’s point had a sobering effect. Messonier said the general’s warning should be respected.

But Mesny had burned through his patience. “So we accept these ridiculous restrictions about autopsies? I strongly protest. How would the Chinese even discover the autopsies?” His eyes were on the Baron and Wu.

“Now that I’ve heard everyone’s opinion, the best strategy is to petition the Imperial Throne for permission to conduct autopsies.” The disdain in Wu’s voice was apparent.

“The Chinese government will never support your request to violate their own traditions.” Mesny’s voice was querulous. “You like to gamble, Dr. Wu. If permission is denied, what will you do? Resign?”

Wu’s reaction was barely perceptible. “I’m confident the Imperial Throne will accept my petition.”

“Let’s hope their answer will be swift.”

Wu continued as if Mesny hadn’t spoken. “Once the Imperial Throne gives permission, unidentified corpses will be autopsied in secret to avoid alarming the Chinese.”

“Do you truly believe autopsies can be kept secret? We’ll be acting like murderers, trying to hide the mutilated corpses. No, the solution is obvious.” The Baron controlled his voice in spite of his anger. “It’s unethical to autopsy Chinese corpses. So we’ll autopsy Russian corpses.” Messonier flashed a grin as Khorvat pushed back his chair and called for order over the angry voices.

The Baron kept talking, refusing to be shouted down. “We need to work with Chinese patients and doctors.” Even before he’d finished his sentence, he sensed their disapproval but continued. “Who knows where the cure for plague will be found? Perhaps the Chinese already possess it.” He was breathless.

“I disagree.” Wu’s voice was cold. “Chinese doctors practice folklore, not medicine. They would undermine our work at the hospital. One of their treatments for plague is to wrap a chip of horse bone in red cloth and wear it in a small bag around the neck.”

“A horse bone? You must be joking.” The doctors permitted themselves shallow smiles. Messonier wasn’t amused.

The Baron kept his focus. “Dr. Wu, it’s obvious that not every remedy has potential. But how can we determine which treatments are acceptable? We need all types of knowledge. Why not expand our circle of information? Some of the most unlikely remedies have been proven effective. It’s a schoolboy’s lesson, but even smallpox vaccine, cultivated from infection, was rejected at first.”

“There’s no time to explore Chinese superstitions.”

Iasienski had been quiet but now thumped the table for emphasis. “I’ve heard about these superstitions. The Chinese make medicine from powdered deer hooves. They grind up pearls and insects. Fungus from trees. You’re a modern man, Dr. Wu. Better to dismiss it.”

The Baron persisted. “What harm is there in meeting Chinese medical men? It would ease mistrust between us. Bring them to the hospital. Discuss what they know about the plague. I will gladly translate for them.”

“Translation may tax your ability. If the prefect of Laichow were here, he’d tell us to throw black beans into a well during the last watch of the night. Everyone who drinks water from the well will be saved from plague.”

The laughter was audible this time.

As Wu spoke, the Baron realized he used his mockery of Chinese medicine to form a bond with the Russian doctors. It was the way to court their praise and acceptance. To eliminate the distance between them.

“Gentlemen.” General Khorvat loudly called for attention. “This discussion is also pertinent for my announcement. The merchants in the Chinese Chamber of Commerce have contributed funds to open a hospital in Fuchiatien. It will be staffed with Chinese doctors who practice traditional medicine. We suspect that the Imperial Throne is behind it and money was funneled from Beijing to support their effort.”