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Wednesday - September 15

"John? Did you hear me, John? Is there any news of any kind yet?" repeats Julie, who enters the lab, unnoticed.

"Sorry, I didn't hear you come in, Julie. I haven't found anything conclusive," I quickly say, as I diligently look at the computer screen.

Julie watches the computer as a myriad of input uploads. She intently stares at the counter in the lower right corner of the monitor. The number being displayed continually increases. Sadly, she knows what the number represents. I watch her as she closes her eyes, and then reopens them, releasing a pitiful sigh, as she taps the counter with her bulky suited hand mitts. Not wanting me to see her disappointment, she turns around to survey the proficient team work of the CDC employees.

Julie begins to muddle over everyone as she watches them perform laborious and tedious work. She may act like a hard-nosed dictator at times, but Julie is confident of and efficient to her duties as CDC Director. Most importantly, she cares about her work, the people she works with, and her title. While I wasn't happy that she was promoted to director seven years ago, I must admit, she has proven herself as a leader, and performs only as a professional. Presently, I am not jealous of her position.

I see her reflection in the monitor as she heads back towards me. Tapping my shoulder, Julie signals me with a sway of her head to follow her outside the lab. I wouldn't mind so much, but these damn hazmat suits are bulky and clumsy.

Once we were safe in the anteroom, I remove my helmet and set it on the table. I wait for Julie to remove hers, but notice she is motionless. Concerned, I take a step towards her, asking, "Julie, are you all right? Is there something wrong?"

As Julie stands motionless, I help to remove her helmet. Once removed, I notice the tears swelling in her eyes. Softly, she whispers, "John, the counter's growing. As of today, 450,000 people in America have died within forty-eight hours. That's only America! I fear to know the exact number, John. It's too frightening!" Julie begins to sob, and the only thing I could do is to allow her to lay her head on my chest, as she mourns for those who suffered a death beyond comprehension.

Looking through the lab window, I notice the employees gazing at us. I grab her shoulders, pull her upright, and say, "Julie, look, I don't know what this thing can be and what's causing it. All I do know is that it's here and it's destroying human life within minutes. Everyone's doing what they can."

Julie continues to cry, as I try to make sure that the team doesn't see her faltering and become compromised by the evil enveloping our world.

"Listen, Julie, listen!" as I try to get her attention. "Damn it, Julie! Will you listen to me!" as I shake her harder.

Immediately, Julie stops crying when she sees the employees looking at us. She forces herself away from my hold, clears her throat, then calmly says, "I'm sorry, John. Please, forgive me. The lack of sleep is beginning to affect my thoughts and judgment." She turns around and begins to remove the hazmat suit.

As I watch her undress, I see she's trying to be composed. But her hands are shaking so badly, that I'm now beginning to wonder if she's stable enough to perform her duties as CDC Director.

When she hangs her suit up, I say to her, "Julie, I know what you're going through. We all are. Julie, you can't let this get to you. If it does, then we're all doomed. We, the CDC, the scientific community, all of us, have to be strong, and have to be able to work under these cruel circumstances. You can't let your feelings take over. You are the CDC Director. I suggest you act like her."

Julie gives me a harsh look, but I could see that she wasn't mad. Instead, she says, "Thank you, John. Again, I'm sorry for showing my weakness. I promise you, I won't allow it to be seen again." We both smile in agreement.