Pandora: Outbreak

“That’s why we call him Dr. Doomsayer,” Hank explained to Isabel. A jumble of side discussions arose as if pent up nervous energy was being released.

Before Nielsen could respond, Street said, “Please elaborate.” Nielsen smiled and rested her chin atop interlaced fingers to listen

The blogger reported,” said the British-accented news reader, “that Russian troops had lost all control and had fired indiscriminately into crowds of people for no apparent reason. Casualties are reported to number in the hundreds, if not much higher. All contact with Khabarovsk has since been severed by Russian authorities.”

Yes. That would help you and Noah survive what’s coming.”

Isabel looked from the rapt medical team, to the tall Marine ready to shoot Emma, to the camera recording everything. “What’s coming, Emma?”

“The end of civilization,” Emma replied, taking a sip of water and urinating.

Emma took inventory. “Here.” She reached up to touch her head. The tall Marine’s hand reached for his pistol, but he didn’t draw it. “This,” Emma said.

“Would you like something?” Isabel asked. “For the pain?”

Her sister must be asking if the doctors should administer narcotics. “No.”

Tears welled in Isabel’s eyes. Emmy looked helpless as they slipped a blood pressure cuff on her arm, clipped a thermometer to her finger, and taped a tube to her face.

The nurses cut away Emma’s protective garb, soggy from disinfectant, using special care around her headgear. “Take a deep breath and hold it,” the doctor said. Emma complied with comically puffed cheeks.

Dr. Lange was summoned in French. His team was headed into the terminal. “Prepare for the worst, Dr. Miller. The very, very worst. I bid you adieu, et bon chance.”

You wouldn’t believe what just happened!” Isabel told her about the shooting. Emma didn’t react at all. Not verbally. Not in body language. Oh-my-God, Isabel thought. There’s something really wrong with her.

US and Russian soldiers kept their distance, but held weapons . . . on Emma.

Isabel stared up at the French or German man. “What?” she replied. Turned? she thought. Is that what they call it? “Prepare for what?” she asked.