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"Dr. Thompson to the ER, Dr. Thompson to the ER. Thank you," called a female voice, it seemed to be a far far
away voice, everything was fuzzy on the edges and my eyes were clouded with redness and every time I blinked the blood clouded my vision. It didn't help that I was looking through thick plastic sheeting forming an "isolation tent", or at least that's what the nurses called it. A puff of air refreshed the atmosphere within my isolation.

Six IV trees were at my bed side, infusing a series of cocktails, each with a label stuck on the side reading: "UNKNOWN CONTAGION COCKTAIL". Ten antivirals, ten antibacterials, four antihistamines, and two pressers. I extended my hands in front of me watching as my nail-beds grew a purple-red and along the edge of my nails dark clotted blood seeped out, staining my nails a dark hue.

My breathing grew labored and I coughed once, again, and once more. My blood splattered forth onto my tent and I watched, looking over to the door as my sight grew darker. Three doctors in white bunny suits with NBC gas masks. They reached down and pulled my hospital bed forward while two others unplugged my monitors and IV pump, pushing them along with my bed. One of the doctors pulled out a syringe, it contained a fluorescent pink fluid. She flicked off the yellow plastic tip and stabbed it into a piece of tubing, slowly pushing the plunger down. My vision blurred and tunneled quickly.


The next memory I hold is looking up and seeing the top of a helicopter as light flowed through the windows. Another flash brought the same scene except with the blackness of light pouring inward, the cabin lit only by a small led "UFO light". The next memory my failing brain provided was that of my bed being pushed into an elevator off of a helipad. As the elevator door opened I saw the USAMRIID logo disappear, having been affixed to the door.

I awoke, slowly at first, as I looked around I noticed my wife, sitting in a chair with a bloody stain flowing from her lips, her eyes locked open, dead, blood shot, her head tilted back. My two children, Brian and Christy where each hugging her. Dead too, bruises covering their arms, clutching each other. I hit the nurse call button and not even the pinging sound or light indicator shown.

I slowly got to my feet, examining myself, seeing no signs of infection. I ripped my IV out of my arm; I withheld the yelp, as I knew something was not correct. I walked to the window and I saw downtown Beijing. It was midday and the city was filled with bodies, all over, in the streets. The oddest part, the hospital I was in, along with the other area buildings, flew an American Flag. Upside down and in a knot...

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