Krippin's Story
Christmas Eve
Manhattan Island
7:00 p.m.
The sun was setting weakly over New York City while Alice Krippin lit her fifth cigarette of the day. It was Christmas Eve and in a few hours, the president of the United States would be announcing his mandatory quarantine of Manhattan Island. Since in a few hours, Alice calculated that her life and career would truly be over, she decided to enjoy one more sunset. When she had originally bought the apartment, her realtor had promised that the sunsets were spectacular. Alice had not paid attention to the realtor's incessant rambling about the sunset or the beautiful, family oriented neighbor as all she had cared about was the apartment's affordability and proximity to her lab. Still, watching the sun set over Manhattan had provided Alice with some comfort on this silent night. As she inhaled deeply on her Camel cigarette, Alice took pleasure as the carcinogens burned through her lungs pushing down the pain of the sobs that choked her every day since the first cases of the virus began to appear.
As the sun began to dip over the buildings, Alice stubbed out the cigarette into an antique ashtray she was holding. Looking down, she studied the ashtray. It was white with country French insignia. The ashtray belonged to her mother and Alice remembered that her mother carried the ashtray from room to room throughout Alice's young life. A lifelong smoker, Jennifer Krippin, used cigarette smoke as a shield from the world after the death of her husband, Alice's father. Alice remembered that her mother often went days without speaking as she lit one cigarette after another. Even when she took to her bed, Jennifer Krippin smoked, and Alice remembered walking into her mother's room after school and seeing long streams of smoke emitting from the bed. When Alice was 18, her mother was diagnosed with lung cancer. Alice made long trips from Oxford University to her mother's bedside, hoping that her mother's illness would allow her to open up, but Jennifer Krippin never said a word. One year later, Jennifer Krippin died in her sleep, effectively making Alice an orphan at 19. When Alice arrived to collect her mother's belongings, the nurse handed Alice a note. It was written in her mother's handwriting and was addressed to her. It said two words, "I'm sorry."
Alice's reverie was broken when she realized that the ashtray was swimming with her tears. She started at the sharp knock at the door. She took the ashtray and carefully placed it on her coffee table and walked to the door. She paused at the chain, waiting for the security guard to tell her who her visitor was. Since the virus's mutation, Alice's lab and the United States government had placed her under home restrictions with her own security detail. Although there were public calls for Dr. Krippin to be held accountable for the virus's mutation, there was no federal law that could prosecute her. Still, thought Alice as she stood in front of the door, she was in prison anyway. A federal prison, she mused, couldn't be much worse than this.
"Dr. Krippin," said the security guard, "it's Dr. Robert Neville." The guard paused, "Dr. Neville said that he would like to speak to you."
Alice peered through the peephole and stared at Dr. Neville. Her feelings about the colonel ran hot and cold. While she found him to be an exceedingly attractive man, she resented his interference with her work. As the mutations of the virus began to appear in her test cases, Dr. Neville fought to have the U.S. Army take over Krippin's lab to maintain control over the number of case subjects that were infecting others. As the crises worsen, the U.S. Army took over the lab via a federal court order and Alice found herself locked in her apartment. Alice smiled to herself as she remembered the look on Dr. Neville's face as she spat at him while army officers dragged her out of her lab. That was the one time in her life that Alice remembered losing control. Still, Alice had to give Dr. Neville credit for remaining calm as the situation degraded into the quarantine of Manhattan Island on Christmas Eve.
Removing the chain, Alice opened the door and stepped back. Dr. Neville stepped through the door and the security guard closed it behind him. For a moment, there was silence. Alice could feel that Dr. Neville was studying her with an interest that Alice reserved for her virus. Looking down at herself, Alice realized that she had been wearing the same bathrobe for days and there was the uncomfortable smell of MSG coming through her pores. Unable to go outside, Alice sent out for Chinese food, cigarettes and scotch every day. Alice followed Neville's eyes from her to her apartment which was littered with empty cigarette boxes, Chinese food boxes and scotch bottles. Alice felt embarrassed that her usually pristine apartment looked like a garbage dump. Whatever Dr. Neville thought, he made no comment and turned his attention back to Alice.
"Dr. Krippin," said Dr. Neville, "Manhattan Island is being quarantined." "We need you to get dressed and pack your belongings." Dr. Neville walked over to the window. "We are going to take you to a safe zone."
Alice looked amused. "Whatever for?"
Dr. Neville's head snapped up and he stared at her. "Dr. Krippin, you are still a vital part of this team."
Alice threw her head back and laughed. "A vital part of the team?" she stammered between guffaws. "I have not even seen the inside of my lab since the Army took over."
Dr. Neville held his hands up in a defensive motion. "Dr. Krippin, you refused to cooperate with us. In fact, you refused to share your research that would allow us to contain the threat. "
"I had it under control!" screamed Alice. "I could have contained the mutation of the virus and controlled the outbreak."
For a moment, Alice felt herself losing control. Unlike the last time, she found she didn't care for it. She wanted to launch herself at Dr. Neville and hurt him. She hated that he was staring at her with so much sympathy. Alice wanted to scratch that look off of his face and in doing so, maybe take back control of her life. Looking at Dr. Neville, Alice saw him backing away from the window, lest Alice be tempted to shove him through it. Alice wanted to laugh out loud: the big army colonel afraid of a little, out-of- shape lab researcher. Fighting for control, Alice said more softly, "I had it under control."
"No," said Dr. Neville, "You didn't." He walked over to Alice and gently put his hands on her shoulders. The weight of Dr. Neville's hands on Alice's shoulders stirred up her emotions again and she felt tears stinging her eyes. "Dr. Krippin," he said "the mutations happened so quickly there was no way that one person could have contained them." Alice was surprised when he gently put his hand under her chin and cupped up, raising her eyes to meet his own. His dark eyes were warm and comforting and Alice felt warmth spread through her body. She had not felt this warm and calm in a long time. "Dr. Krippin," said Dr. Neville calmly, "you did a wonderful thing." "You cured cancer." Tenderly, Dr. Neville released Alice. "But you took too many risks in doing so." "You ignored security protocols." "My question to you is why you didn't take more care and limit the number of test cases?" "We could have contained the virus more easily."
Alice wrapped her arms around herself as if she was sheltering herself from Dr. Neville's questions. "People needed help." Alice shrugged and sat down. "I wanted to help them."
Dr. Neville smiled for the first time that evening and sat down across from her. "That's a simplistic answer Dr. Krippin."
"Occum's razor," responded Alice. "The simplest explanation is usually the most correct one."
Dr. Neville shook his head. "Not in this case Dr. Krippin." He looked at her thoughtfully. "Does it have something to do with your mother?"
Alice should have been surprised that Dr. Neville knew about her mother, but she was not. Everyone who worked with Alice, from her colleagues at Oxford to her lab partners at Columbia believe that Alice was driven by the death of her mother. The long hours she worked, her lack of care to her appearance and even her lack of a personal life led most to believe that Alice was driven by guilt. Alice picked up her mother's ashtray and held it in her hands. She looked over at Dr. Neville.
"This," she said indicating the ashtray, "belonged to my mother." Alice held it up and turned it for Dr. Neville to see. "It is the only thing I inherited from her." She held it in her hands. "My mother died from lung cancer." Alice shook her head and tossed the ashtray onto the table, it clanged and turned over onto the floor. Ash and water seeped into the carpet as Alice stared across the table at Dr. Neville. "My mother's death gave me a direction, but she is not the reason that I wanted to cure cancer." Alice sighed and for a moment, her head dropped down. "My mother died years before she got cancer." Alice looked up at Neville. "I worked tirelessly to cure cancer because I am a cancer victim too."
For once, Dr. Neville actually looked surprised. "I had no idea."
Alice smirked. "No one did." "I hid my cancer from everyone." She leaned forward. "I was one of my first test subjects for the virus."
Dr. Neville's surprise turned to horror. "You are infected with the Krippin virus."
Alice smiled. "I ran tests." "So far, the virus has not mutated in my blood." "In fact," said Alice, "I have a surprise for you." While Dr. Neville still stared at her somewhat horrified, Alice walked over to her refrigerator and brought out some test vials. Walking back to the living room, she handed them to Dr. Neville. "Here," she said, "you can use them in your research." She shrugged. "Maybe they will lead to some answers."
Dr. Neville looked down at her vials and up at Alice. The expression on his face was pained. Again, his sympathy for her triggered anger, yet Alice was able to control it this time. She walked back to the couch and grabbed a half full bottle of scotch. Taking a swing, Alice allowed the alcohol to burn through her throat. As she started to take another drink, Dr. Neville stood up and looked at her. "Dr Krippin," said Dr. Neville, "I have to insist on your evacuation."
Alice cradled the bottle in her arms and shook her head at him. "No, Dr. Neville, my time is coming to an end." She gestured out the window. The sun had now set and outside the city was humming peacefully unaware that in a couple of hours everything would change. "I want to stay here and spend Christmas Eve in the last home that I will ever know."
Dr. Neville stared at Alice for a long moment. In that time, Alice felt that he was trying to understand her. Slowly he stood up, his eyes never leaving her face. In his studied glance, Alice realized that Dr. Neville truly saw her, her drive, her loneliness, her desire to survive and ultimately live a better life than her mother. While there was no doubt in his mind that Dr. Krippin had failed in many respects, Dr. Neville, thought Alice, admired the fact that she tried.
Dr. Neville held out his hand and Alice shook it. "Good-bye, Dr. Neville and . . .Merry Christmas."
Dr. Neville smiled, "Dr. Krippin, I hope that you have a Merry Christmas as well."
With that, Dr. Neville turned walked toward the door. Suddenly, Dr. Neville turned and stared at Alice. "Dr. Krippin . . . I'm sorry." Then, he closed the door behind him.