June 3rd
Diagnosed (as of today): 109
Deaths (as of today): 30
Total diagnosed: 241
Total deaths: 117
"Mister, do you think we could ever find a cure in time?"
Asher flinched in the dimly lit atmosphere, and turned around to face a skinny young boy sitting straight up in his care bed.
It all started when a disease broke out a year ago. Patient zero was known to be a middle aged man in his forties, and was reported to be feeling unwell three days before he was diagnosed by the health research team. He was reported to have gone through a nagging toothache, and had to get his top two incisors extracted at the dentist's one day after being diagnosed. However, the toothache wasn't just the only rare symptom of this disease. On day two, patient zero went through multiple painful headaches. Thunderclap headaches, they call it. And on day three, he died. After a thorough examination taken by the medical team, it was concluded that the recurrence of his death was something similar to a brain bleed. However, there was evidence in data collected that proved the disease to be infectious. Clinical health research teams immediately divided into groups in search for a cure or vaccine.
Asher was a part of the clinical data management team. From day to night, he worked diligently and carefully, ensuring that any type of information collected about the disease was recorded into the hospital systems. Constance watched the time her husband spent at work dramatically increase, and a little part of her always felt selfish for wanting to keep him all to herself.
The cases increased steadily over time. Those sick all died within the span of a week after being diagnosed. A young mother who did not consult doctors of her symptoms was reported to have died in her house whilst in the middle of nursing her newborn. A group of highschool students collapsed on the streets whilst walking downtown, and were reported to have died shortly after being unconscious. All patients sent to the hospitals went through the three stages of symptoms with absolutely no one lasting over seven days after diagnosis.
Asher listened to the sound of suffering echo within the hospital wards everyday. He was afraid that the forceful twist he often felt from the center of his body would one day rip his heart clean out of his chest.
It was that one day, whilst checking up on the younger patients of the wards, that he met this peculiar young boy.
He looked about ten for his age. His hair was a dark mess that poked out in all directions. Although slightly on the skinnier side, his eyes shined gently like tiny stars tingling with excitement in the night sky. His face replicated the night light Asher carried in his hand. It was almost as if he was glowing through his hospital gown. Asher sensed a wave of energy flow continuously throughout this little boy's weak body. Somewhere along the lines, he felt as if he had seen this boy somewhere.
"Mister, do you think we could ever find a cure in time?" he asked again.
"Ah." Asher paused. "Aren't you supposed to be asleep?"
The boy didn't answer, just shifted his focus to the back of the wall. He muttered something under his breath.
"We can't find a cure right now, I'm sure you're aware of it." Asher swallowed. "But that doesn't mean we won't soon."
The young boy continued to stare at the wall in the back of the room. An eerie silence swept between the two as their own voices were replaced with the sound of monitors humming away gently. After a moment of complete silence, Asher turned towards the last care bed in the ward.
"What if the cure isn't what we imagine it to be?"
His blood chilled. Slowly he turned to face the sick boy in bed once again.
"What if there was a reason why this disease first made its existence?"
"What's your name, boy?"
Slight pause. "Wilder."
"Wilder, how old are you?"
"I just turned ten last month."
"Wilder, I think you should get some sleep." He walked down the hallway, passing hospital beds lined on each side of the wall, and watched the now peaceful faces of many children rest in their dreams. For a second, he wasn't sure if half of them were still breathing anymore. And even if they were, for how much longer? His heart skipped a beat as he faced the boy at the opposite end of the room.
"Sleep tight."
The doors closed.
・・・
"Asher, you home?" Constance raised her head at the sound of the door.
"Yeah." He took off his shoes and, after a change of clean clothes and a shower, sat down at the dinner table.
"I missed you," Constance kissed him on the cheek. Her kiss felt warm and full of life, contrasting against the atmosphere of the hospital wards Asher had just been in earlier. He smiled inside and embraced her. "It's a good thing that this disease isn't infectious or anything," she whispered.
"Yeah," he nodded in agreement. "I missed you too, sweetie."
Asher ruffled her caramel hair and wrapped his arms around her petite body. He felt almost out of place whenever embracing her in a hug. A pang of guilt shot through his chest. Are we supposed to be this happy when the world is at its worst right now? But he brushed that thought aside, and tried to enjoy the warmth his wife brought him. It was almost as if he were absorbing the heat from a campfire and saving it for his work life.