Silent murderer

Chapter 1

The Day it All Ended

Row upon row of bodies, writhing in agony and all I can think is 'by the time I return tomorrow night, half of them will be dead' I can do nothing to stop this. All these brave men have just returned from war, trying to avoid death and this is what they get? Death anyway. They spent 2 years fighting, running for their lives, to return home to find they will have but a week to live. What black irony. No cure exists for this Spanish influenza, as its been named, so I can do not a single thing to halt the many lives it has claimed. I must watch while my heart contorts in guilt as a silent prey consumes these poor people. All I can do is try to ease their passing into the one place I have been denied entry, heaven.

Each day people enter, merely coughing or vomiting, and I watch them rapidly deteriorate until they are taken over by the illness altogether, their own immune system turning against them. There are only two ways out of this hospital: get better or in a body bag. Not many people get better, but it's always nice to have another option.

A knock on my office pulled me from my melancholy thoughts.

"Doctor Cullen? We require your assistance right away." One of the nurses called.

"I will be with you in one moment." My rounds weren't meant to start for another 10 minutes, what could be so urgent? I slipped my white coat on and headed out the door. After a look around I found the nurse who called me and headed over to her.

"What is it?" I mused

"Why are you not wearing your mask? Do you want to die?" Yes but its never going to happen. I am to forever live this lonely life.

"I lost it I am afraid, however, I don't think I have anything to worry about." I lied smoothly. "What is it you require of me?" She gestured lamely around the room full of dieing bodies.

"We're up to our eyes here, would you be so kind as to help us get all the new arrivals settled?" I nodded and headed over to the crowd of awaiting people.

"Mother, please, I am perfectly fine I assure you, please stop fussing over me." The voice caught my attention.

"But, Edward, dear, vomiting is not being fine."

"May I help?" I queried, standing directly in front of them.

"Yes, my son is ill, please take care of him as best as you can." The woman motioned to the boy standing next to her. For a moment I was struck by her words; she didn't say "make him better" or "cure him" but merely to take care of him. It was as if she knew he would die. She was silently asking me to make his final moments of this life as comfortable as possible.

"I'll do my best, Madam."

"Please, I am Elizabeth Masen." I nodded with a smile.

"Very well, if you would like to come this way."

The truth was there was no room left to place the couple so I led them to my own personal quarters which, to be honest, looked like a smaller scale version of any other room in this infernal hospital.

I brought another bed in and removed my desk so there was more room, I didn't use it anyway. What was there to keep in it? Photos? I don think so. Once I got them settled I noticed a peculiar thing, Elizabeth seemed to be the worse off of the two yet she continued to do all she could for the boy. Is this what a mother should do? Many mothers who entered were to weak to even get out of bed, let alone see if their child was all right

"I wouldn't strain yourself too much Ms." I informed her, watching uncertainly as an unhealthily green glow began to fill her cheeks. She nodded and slumped back into her bed, sleep overcoming her.

"She worries far to much" The boy, Edward, muttered.

"It's her way of saying 'I love you' I suppose." I suggested to him.

"I know but it gets annoying when you get it every day for 17 years." He chuckled but it got caught in his throat and began to chough. The violent liquid sound to it made me worry about how long it will be before he would be unable to speak, walk, eat, anything. I travelled over to him and helped him to sit up properly so his airways wouldn't be blocked.

"Thank you." He muttered meekly once he had stopped, "god that hurts." He added. I smiled at him sympathetically, placing a hand over his forehead.

"You're a little hot, a temperature is building. I'll be right back." I got up and grabbed a bowl, filling it with water, and a cloth. Dipping the cloth in the water and then wringing it out I placed it on his head, hoping it will calm the fever that was heading his way. Wishing I could do more I stayed with him until he fell asleep. Then I walked out with the cloth and water to start my rounds, 30 minutes late.

Okay, so i hope your liking the idea of this story, what do you think? any ideas on what you think could happen?